Rebel(21)

The bed shifts as he sits down and slips under the comforter. I tuck down the sides, wrapping myself in, but even just knowing that he’s there creates a kind of intimacy that’s hard to ignore.

Jesus, Angie, it’s not like you have the hots for him or anything.

Right?





Chapter 9: Angie


Ugh. I’m pretty sure I’m in bed, but everything’s rocking. My eyes open slowly, and I look around with bleary eyes. Why does my head hurt so much? What is this place? Is it heaven? Everything’s white.

Suddenly it all comes back to me with a crash. The cruise. The wine. Gavin.

Still blinking, I’m convinced something else feels wrong. I shift, or I try to. I’m stuck. Why am I stuck? Drawing a deep breath, I stop and think. It’s like swimming to the surface from far underwater. Mornings are never my thing, but hung over, they’re apparently even worse.

I’m pinned by an arm, slung over me by a large warm presence that’s spooning me. It feels nice. Cozy almost. I’m tempted to close my eyes and slip back to sleep. Of course, the only people in here are me and Gavin, so—

My eyes go wide. Shit. He’s supposed to be on his side, not attached to mine. What’s he doing wrapped around me? And why does it have to feel so nice? Now that I’m aware of him, I can feel his deep breathing, his chest pressing against my back every time he inhales, and his soft warm breath brushing over my neck when he lets it back out. His muscular arm is heavy, holding me close. I’m lying in a sort of running position, with one leg in front of the other, and one of his legs is across the back one. I’m completely stuck.

He’s asleep. Thank God. Maybe he doesn’t know. I don’t want to wake him, but I’m not sure what to do. I want to stay put, even burrow in deeper against him, but with how things are, that would be a Terrible Idea. But what can I do? It’s hard to think when my head feels like I’m wearing a helmet one size too small.

Indecision makes me pause, pausing makes me lower my head to my pillow, and being hung over makes my eyes slide shut. I’ll fix it in the morning. Or whenever I wake up. Then all the white fades back to black.





Chapter 10: Gavin


Mmm... Nothing like waking up with an almost naked girl in your arms and her sexy ass pressing against your morning wood. I don’t usually stick around long enough, but so long as I’m here... except wait, shit. This isn’t my place, and that’s not where that particular ass is supposed to be. Or I’m supposed to be. Or something.

My eyes pop open, finding wild, dark bed hair sticking in all directions right in front of my face. Angie. Not only is she pressing against my hardon, I’ve got my arm around her. It also looks like it’s decidedly my fault, as I’m about as close to her side of the bed as is possible without pushing her off the bed.

Well, fuck.

I listen and hear her soft steady breathing. At least she’s still asleep. My cock twitches, thinking this is awesome, but this isn’t my gig. God knows I’d love to fuck her brains out, and if I take it soft and sweet, she might even let me, but when it happens, it’s going to be because she wants it, not because I’ve got her trapped and unconscious. I have my pride. And morals, I guess, but don’t let it get around. A guy has a reputation to maintain.

Alright, easy does it. I try to slide away, but she’s grabbed onto my arm, which is fucking cute and all, but doesn’t make it any easier to pull away. Still, she’s a heavy sleeper, and with a little tug I get my arm loose. Then it’s just a matter of rolling away carefully.

It’s when I immediately run out of comforter that I understand how I ended up on her end of the bed. Self-preservation. The little blanket thief. Most of it’s hanging over the edge and down on the floor on the other side of her. I’ve probably just been chasing her across the mattress in my sleep, trying to stay warm. So nothing happened.

No harm, no foul. Unfortunately.

I grab my phone from the nightstand. Almost eleven. Man, we’ve slept in. Good thing we don’t have a schedule. Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I gather my will before pushing myself to my feet. Mornings suck, my mouth tastes like cotton and I need a shower.

That, and my hardon’s refusing to die down.

I close the door to the bathroom quietly so I don’t wake her. A quick brushing of the teeth, one really awkward leak since I’m still hard as rock, and then into the shower. Fuck, I need one like this at home. It’s fucking huge, and the pressure’s the kind that peels the dirt right off your back. We’re fucking millionaires. Why do I have a crappy shower?

As soon as the hot water hits my back, I forget about it. The shower fills with steam and the hot water pounds down my back, relaxing every muscle in my body. Well, apart from one. Apparently my cock’s pissed I didn’t get my morning fix, and has decided it needs attention. Since the odds of getting Angie’s help in the immediate future are pretty fucking slim, I guess I’m fisting it. Not as much fun as with a little help, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.