Her body shifts, pressing back against me, and I bite down on my tongue hard enough to taste copper.
If she moves like that again, I'm going to embarrass myself.
"Mmm." The sound is sleepy, content. "You're warm."
"And you're awake."
"Barely." She stretches, a full-body undulation that drags her arse across my cock in a way that cannot be accidental. "What time is it?"
"Early. Just past seven."
"Too early." She snuggles deeper into me, and I'm going to die. I'm going to die right here in this bed, killed by a woman who has no idea what she's doing to me. "Five more minutes."
"Dalla..."
"Shh. Sleeping."
She's not sleeping.
I can tell by the change in her breathing, the tension that's crept into her body.
She knows exactly what's pressed against her.
She's choosing to stay anyway.
Dangerous, dangerous woman.
I extract myself before I do something stupid—like roll her onto her back and finish what we started last night.
The loss of her warmth is physical pain, but I force myself off the bed and onto my feet.
"Where are you going?" She rolls over, blinking up at me with those blue eyes still hazy from sleep.
Her hair is a mess, tangled and wild against the pillow.
The oversized t-shirt she wore to bed has slipped off one shoulder, exposing a stretch of creamy skin that makes my mouth water.
She looks rumpled and soft and absolutely edible.
"Shower," I manage. "A fecking cold one."
Her lips curve into a smile that's pure sin. "Need some help with that?"
"You're going to be the death of me."
"And what a way to go."
I retreat to the bathroom before I give in to the invitation in her eyes.
I close the door and lean against it, trying to remember how to breathe.
This is fine. I can handle this. I've handled worse.
I turn the shower to cold and step under the spray, letting the icy water shock some sense back into my body.
It helps.
Marginally.
