My leg twitches, a movement that forces a swift run along a thigh too smooth to be mine.
The sleepy fog in my brain clears, and now I’m remembering my middle of the night wake up, how every part of my body except my head was on the ground, the air mattress a pancake beneath me.
If it weren’t for Paisley’s offer, I’d either have significant back pain from the ground or be on the couch risking someone finding me.
As directed, I stayed on my side of the bed.
Paisley may have issued the memo, but she did not abide by it. She is not only on my side, she’s curled around me.
My gaze drifts down, to where the top of her head fits under my chin.
The parts of my body that are connected to Paisley’s suddenly come alive.
My chest... and her back pressed against it.
My knees... tucked into the space behind hers.
My nose... buried in her hair.
And last but so very far from least, her lovely backside curled into my center like a double rainbow.
Oh, for the love.
Her T-shirt bunches around her lower back, revealing the top of that sheer thong that matches her eyes. It hugs her flesh, round and firm and disappearing into the concave space made by my body.
Waking up like this is a dream I didn’t dare have, but here she is, tucked into me, the lines of her body pressed to mine like she was made to be there. Like she was made for me.
Whoa. Slow down. What kind of thought was that?
I mean, yeah, Paisley is the total package. She’s funny and kind, whip-quick and intelligent. She’d do anything for her family, as is evidenced by the fact we’re here. I’m learning that while she may seem unruffled on the outside, she’s softer on the inside. She has a figure that makes my body groan from head to toe.
But, made for me? That’s intense.
I have to get out of here. Go downstairs and pour caffeine down my throat. I’m Paisley’s fake boyfriend whopromised her a make-up kiss because my ego can’t handle being her worst. That’s all.
Fighting my desire to carry outlascivious acts—thank you, drunken Paisley—I retreat from the warm, soft bed. Footfalls quiet, I slip out of the room.
Though Paisley remains in bed, her body heat simmers on me, her smell lingering on my skin.
A bitter,smoky scent greets me in the kitchen. A coffee carafe, filled to the brim with dark liquid, sits on a gold cart at the end of a counter. Also on the cart: six types of flavored syrups, sugar cubes in a glass canister, and a stainless steel creamer.
Wow. This family takes their caffeine seriously. Not that I’m complaining. At any given time of day I am likely to be some degree of caffeinated.
I grab a mug and prepare my coffee the way I like, and by the time I’m stirring creamer into my cup, Lausanne is walking into the kitchen.
“Good morning. Sleep well?”
I nod, noting that once again she’s dressed exactly the way Paisley described her yesterday.
Coastal grandma. I’ll definitely be tucking that one away and using it in a future novel.
“I did, thank you.”
“How was the bed? The mattress is new. You two are the first to sleep on it.”
“Just right,” I assure her. Thanks to my middle of the night bed switch, I don’t have to lie.
“Good,” Lausanne remarks, adding a splash of vanilla syrup to her coffee. “The rest of the family will descend upon us today. You need to be well rested for them.”
