Grading papers.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want to be here.”
My lungs seize and even as I’m absorbing the impact of that, of how good it feels, he sits back.
“You know what would make this better?” he asks.
“More wine?” I quip.
Lips twitching, he shakes his head.
“Even more wine?”
A chuckle. “No, baby.”
My heart feels like a skittish jackrabbit leaping about in my chest. “Then what?” I ask quietly.
He leans close, close enough for that jackrabbit to transform into an elephant.
He has a scar near the corner of his mouth and I want to trace it with my fingers, with my lips…my tongue.
His breath is on my skin, his body is close.
But before I can feel that, before I can get lost in that…or the panic that’s sure to cling to its coattails, he snags the remote from the coffee table and points it at the receiver.
“Reality TV.”
“Baby,” I hear from a distance. “Baby, wake up.”
I’m warm and comfortable, cuddled against a pillow that smells like spice, a pillow that’s warm and…hard?
I blink, trying to claw myself out of the depths of sleep.
The next thing I’m aware of are fingers stroking through my hair, gentle and steady, and then that hard, spicy pillow…
Or Colt’s thighs, rather.
I’m sprawled out on the couch, my head in his lap?—
My eyes fly open on a gasp.
“Easy,” he says quietly, glancing down at me, those fingers never stopping their gentle movements. “You fell asleep, baby. But it’s getting late, I should head home, let you go up to bed.”
“You fell asleep too,” I say softly.
He’s deliciously sleep-rumpled, a lock of hair having fallen forward to tumble over his forehead, his lids heavy, the stubble on his jaw longer than normal, calling for my fingers to stroke.
His mouth kicks up. “Yeah, I did.”
Quiet falls between us and it’s not strange, not scary.
It’s…comfortable.
“You didn’t like the show?” I ask softly, knowing I should move, but unable to make myself sit up.
“I’m not the only one who crashed out between dinner parties gone wrong and obscenely large shopping trips.”
“Rude,” I say. “I had a trying day”—and three glasses of wine, but who was counting?—“that’s the only reason I fell asleep.”
