She glances down at herself and tugs on the end of the shirt before smiling up at me. “Great shirt, by the way. I love Jared Leto.” Turning, she wobbles her way over to the bed, pulls back the duvet and slides in, snuggling down with a giant sigh.
Somehow, even in her drunken state, she managed to figure out what side of the bed I sleep on, though I guess the alarm clock, bottle of water, and stack of books on the right side nightstand kind of makes it obvious.
I get ready in the bathroom and when I exit, I find her face down in the bed, a light snore filling the room. It should be gross, a huge turn off, yet, it isn’t. It is fucking adorable.
I am so screwed.
This is somewhere I never thought I would be a week ago, joining her in bed. After getting my legs under the covers, I pull my shirt off and toss it onto my chair. I can’t stand sleeping in shirts and she’s already passed out, so it’s not like she will be looking.
I lie back against my pillow and reach out with my right hand, running my fingers through her soft, blonde hair, which cascades over the pillow behind her. She mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over toward me, settling her head against my chest and wrapping her arm around my stomach.
Woah.
I hold my breath as she snuggles even closer to me, eliminating any space from between our bodies and throwing her leg over mine, my cock hardening again at the brush of her skin.
No one has touched me in over three years.
Well, that’s not entirely true. The doctors, a lot of doctors have, and my family, they are huggers, but, not a woman, and not in my bed, and certainly not below the belt.
She settles and her breathing returns to the rhythmic sound of deep sleep. I slowly release the breath I’m holding and wrap my arms around her, keeping her impossibly close.
Pressing my lips to her head, I inhale and take in the clean smell of her shampoo and the faint lilac scent that always surrounds her.
She smells like summer, and having her here, wrapped around me in my bed, makes me crave everything I never thought I could have again.
Just don’t fuck it up.
I wake to a wall of heat and hard flesh—under my cheek, my right arm, my hand, between my legs. The crisp, cool scent I’ve come to associate with Savage invades as I take a deep breath and snuggle in closer to him.
The steady rise and fall of his chest under my cheek is soothing and I feel myself drifting toward sleep again when I suddenly realize I have no fucking clue how I got here.
Sitting up abruptly, my head spins and a stabbing pain pierces my temples. I wince and scrunch my eyes closed, pressing my palms against my head and praying it stops.
Shit, what the hell happened last night?
What the fuck did I do?
The splitting pain finally fades to a dull ache, and I open my eyes to a vast expanse of slightly tanned, smooth, muscled flesh.
Sweet baby Jesus! Savage is ripped!
I mean, I’ve seen him before, in the videos, but this is real life, full living color and flesh right at my fingertips.
Sleeping peacefully on his back, his head is turned away from me, the arm that was wrapped around me now sprawled out along the bottom of the pillows, exposing his toned bicep. The crisp white sheet is pulled up just under his pecs and my hand itches to pull it down so I can examine the rest of him.
This is creepy. I shouldn’t be watching him sleep, thinking about touching him while he is completely unaware. Creepy, right? Predatory?
I clutch my hands together, anything to prevent me from giving in to my desire to find out if the rest of his body looks like this. He mentioned he works out every day, but I never imagined he could look like this under all those crisp, perfectly tailored shirts. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t chiseled pecs and arms that look like they belong on a professional athlete, not a strip club owner. The video quality was questionable, but this? This is very real.
The temptation to pull the sheet back grows and my clit throbs looking at him. I bury my face in my hands and take several deep breaths.
Just go back to sleep.
If I can just convince myself I’m in control and slip back down into his arm and against his firm body, maybe I can drift off. I throw my leg over his hip, press my lips to his chest, and relish the taste of his hot skin on my tongue.
God, he tastes so good.
Instinctively, I press my bare core against him, searching for relief from my pounding need. The loss of my panties last night should be embarrassing, but it makes it so much easier to seek relief this morning.
Fuck. That feels good.
I rock my hips slightly against him, burying my face into his shoulder and chewing my lip against the desire to bite into his hot skin.