It wasn’t five minutes before deep, rhythmic breathing told him she’d fallen asleep. He closed his eyes then, breathed in her spicy vanilla scent, and let himself go.
…
It wasn’t like in romance novels, where you wake up and for a moment have no idea where you are. Maybe you even make out with your bedmate in some kind of mysterious half-asleep zombie state before you realize you’re actually in bed with someone you shouldn’t be. Nope, when Cassie woke up she remembered precisely what had happened. And, more to the point, she knew exactly whose arm was slung over her, whose solid chest her cheek rested against.
Well, this is embarrassing. After her big speech about how this was going to be casual, she’d put him in a situation where he—Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Relationships—felt forced to stay the night. Without even opening her eyes, she could picture him, choppy hair all disheveled, a day’s worth of beard growth. Because she’d never closed the curtains, the west-facing room was flooded with enough sunlight to suggest a clear and well-advanced Monday morning. She shifted a little bit, trying to ease a crick in her neck without waking him up. His arms came to life and tightened around her, immobilizing her against his chest.
“Good morning.” Yikes, his voice was sexy first thing in the morning, all low and gravelly.
“Good morning,” she echoed, and he loosened his hold enough for her to tilt her head up to see his face. Yep—disheveled and wickedly hot. The sun glinted off his fair whiskers, making them look almost golden.
“Woman, you need a bigger bed.” Somehow, they’d drifted over to his side of the bed, and his back was pushed right up against the wall. “You’re one of those migratory sleepers, aren’t you?”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, but when she tried to scooch back to her side, his arms tightened again. She’d been sort of half draped over his chest, her own chest and head cradled on his soft T-shirt, but now he hoisted her up so she was lying fully on top of him. He didn’t seem to be trying to hide his morning erection, which was apparent even through his jeans and hers. Ironic that they’d slept fully clothed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She closed her eyes, embarrassed but resigned. “Yes. I’m sorry you had to see all that.”
“You’ve been paying for your mother’s rehab, haven’t you? That’s where all your money goes.”
There was no point in trying to hide it. It was plainly obvious from the exchange he’d witnessed. And anyway, she didn’t want to hide it from him anymore. It was too much work. So she nodded. She expected him to have a lot to say, to scold her, to berate Laura as ungrateful. Instead, he merely asked, “What will happen now?”
“Same thing that always happens. I’ll hear from her once or twice more in the next few days, and I’ll be all tough love. Then she’ll disappear for months. When she comes back, I’ll have talked myself into believing her when she says she’s ready to change for good.”
“And then you put her in rehab again.”
“Yep. Rinse and repeat.” She sighed and let her forehead fall to his chest. If only she could burrow into him for a while and ignore everything—at least until Christmas was over and school started up and life became busy and routine again. It was safe and cozy nestled against his chest, and he smelled good. There was something to be said for a lemon tree growing in a bog. But he would have to get to the office. And she still had a lot of work to do to get ready for the trip.
She pressed against his chest to lever herself off him, but his arms tightened, halting her progress. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She didn’t know what to say. I’m trying to extricate us from this super awkward situation? I need to remove myself from your person before I jump you?
“I believe I won the race up the stairs last night.” The sentence was delivered in a completely neutral tone, and his face did not betray any emotion. But all the same, the declaration made her catch her breath in response to the twinge between her legs.
“Don’t you have to go to work?”
One hand wormed its way under the waistband of her jeans and cupped her ass. “I’m the boss. I don’t have to do anything.” He rocked his hips into hers, grinding his erection against her.
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to revel for a moment in the pure, hot pleasure of her pelvis immobilized between his hips and his hands. Then they flew open at the unexpected sensation of his whiskers against her neck. He was gently kissing down her throat, and when he reached her collarbone he traced the outline of it with his tongue. A day away from his razor had left him with sharp, golden stubble that tickled and tortured and made her nipples harden.