“You know, if this was one of those trashy romances,” I say drowsily, “this would be the equivalent of getting stuck in a hotel room with only one bed.”
I feel his broad chest move against me as he chuckles. “I dinna think I’ve ever read one.”
“Oh, well, it’s a trope. There has to be a way to get the enemies to become lovers so forced proximity is the vehicle to get them to fall for each other.”
“Ya seem to know a lot about these trashy romances,” he says, amusement still clear in his deep voice.
“Yeah, that’s because I read like, five a week,” I say with zero shame. God, his body heat is like standing in the Sahara Desert, and on this cold as hell night, I can feel myself edge incrementally closer to him. He realizes this and helps me out by molding himself against me, my back to his warm chest, his legs tucked against mine, and a steel spike poking my back.
“Ignore him,” Ethan says, “the bastard dinna realize this is a survival situation.”
“That’s yourdick?”I blurt. It feels alarmingly long and even hotter than the rest of him. Any moisture left in my mouth has traveled south to my lady bits.
Who knew? Instant lust is an excellent painkiller.
His laughter jolts me and he carefully rests his hand on my hip, away from my ribs. “Well, aye. My Desert Eagle is still in my kit bag.”
“I should say something stern about being vain enough to compare your dick to the biggest handgun in the world, but…”
“The Desert Eagle isn’t the biggest,” he says seriously, “that’s the Pfeifer Zeliska .600 Nitro Express. Heavyweight, which cuts down on recoil and the bullets are six times the size of a standard nine-millimeter round.”
“Don’t make me laugh!” I wheeze. “And of course, you would know that.”
“Part of the job, lass.” He pulls the blankets up higher and between his heat baking me and the comfort of his closeness, I finally fall asleep.
“Lass… Sloan, sweetheart?”
“Mmmmm?” Oh, please don’t wake me up, this is the best I’ve felt in…
Oh,shit.
I’m lying on top of Ethan like he’s my extremely beefy mattress. His thick thigh is between mine and I am rubbing myself against him.
“Oh! Oh, my god! I’m so sorry!” I try to scramble off him and my ribs twinge angrily.
“Ah, ah! Dinna move.” His enormous hands are holding my hips in place. “I’m enjoying it, I just want to make sure ya want this.”
“I’m molesting you in my sleep and you want to make sureI’mgiving consent?” I hide my face in his neck. This is so humiliating.
“Endorphins make an excellent painkiller,” he says encouragingly, “And I’m thinking you’re close, baby.” Slowly, his hands propel my hips to slide over his thigh again and he is so right. My borrowed boxer briefs are wet and my clitoris is throbbing insistently. Damn him! His thigh is so sculpted that I can feel the defined muscles under his jeans. “Shh… there’s a good girl. Use me.” His fingers tighten on my ass, carefully lifting his thigh higher. “Keep going,” he whispers diabolically, “ya need this. You’re gonna come all over my leg, rubbing that sweet pussy until we’re both soaking wet. I can hear your little whimpers and they’re turning me the feck on.”
My thighs clamp around his leg and the rough texture of his jeans is almost too much against my needy center. He smells like how warm feels and his hoarse whispers of filth and encouragement are too much and the blaze spiraling in my center bursts into a supernova and I have to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming into the night sky.
“Fuuuck…” he groans, fingers still flexing on my ass.
I’m shaking, why am I shaking?
“Ya did so well for me, baby,” he whispers in my ear, “so pretty when ya come.”
“I’m sorry,” I groan, “I can’t believe I molested you.”
“Shh…” he’s stroking my tangled hair, “go back to sleep now.”
His cock is thick and hard, pressing against my hipbone. “Can I do anything for, uh… For you?”
“I can handle a case of blue balls for one night,” he says, amused. “We’re not gonna do anything that will make you hurt worse.”
Bursting out into helpless giggles, I mumble, “Yeah, but isn’t it painful for a guy?”
