His deep chuckle vibrates against my ear. “The sleepy voice was convincing. Unnecessary, but a great job.”
I scrunch my nose, cringing. What the hell did I do that for? It’s not like he cares that I’ve been awake all night reading. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He laughs again, pulling me back against him. His body is warm on mine, the weight of his arm draped over my waist and his chest pressing lightly into my back, rising and falling with each breath. His legs tangle with mine, and the scratch of his stubble grazes the back of my head as he shifts slightly. “Is this okay?”
“Hmm?”
“I know I said no cuddling, but… I think we can both agree I’m not a great rule follower.”
“It’s fine,” I whisper. More than fine, actually. It feels like everylook my way, every word he says, is a cuddle, and this is just the natural evolution of that. It feels incrediblyright.
“Get some sleep now.”
I scoot back a little, testing the feeling of his body against mine, and my breath catches as I notice the unmistakable hardness pressing against my ass.
Holy shit. He’shard. And thick—extraordinarily so.
A tingling warmth spreads through me, and I can’t help but mentally measure it against a soda can. Shooing the thought away, I try to stay still, not wanting to draw attention to it, but almost involuntarily, I shift my hips slightly.
His sharp intake of breath tells me he’s noticed. His fingers flex against my stomach, but he says nothing. There’s no way I’m falling asleep after this, though, and I lie still, slowly realizing that we’re entangled, squeezed together intimately. And now his erection is pressed against me.
I shift my hips again, more deliberately this time.
A low groan escapes his throat, barely audible but enough to make goose bumps take over my body. “What are you doing?”
I swallow hard, my heart racing. “Nothing. Just getting comfortable.” But I’m not. I’m testing the waters, seeing how far I can push this before one of us breaks.
His hand slides lower, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of my shorts. “Still okay?” His voice vibrates against my neck, his lips brushing my skin.
I nod, unable to form words as his fingertips trace lazy circles on my hip. My eyes flutter closed, and I arch back against him again, craving more contact.
“Scarlett,” he huffs. “You’re making it very difficult to be a gentleman right now.”
I turn my head slightly, glimpsing his face in the dim morning light. His eyes are dark, intense, fixed on me. “Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”
For a moment, we’re both perfectly still, suspended in the tension. Then, with agonizing slowness, his hand slides farther down, fingertips tracing lightly over the delicate skin of my inner thigh.
“Rooo!”
We both flinch as Sherlock lands between our legs, like an unwelcome referee in our private game.
“Shit, hey, I just fed you!” Rafael complains as Sherlock swats his foot, his little tail flicking in indignation.
“Sherlock, stop,” I scold, but it comes out breathy as laughter bubbles up. I scramble to my knees and shoo him away, then turn back to Rafael, who’s cowering on his side of the bed, catching his breath.
“He wasn’tthisfeisty when I served him breakfast.”
I force myself to stop giggling. “He just wants a cookie.”
“A cookie?”
“Dessert,” I explain. “Very much like his owner, he believes every meal should end with dessert.”
He watches the cat warily as he finally sets his feet on the floor. “All right, then. Let’s go get you dessert, Sherlock.”
the seemingly irrelevant details[trope]
tiny, random bits of information dropped into a story that seem so minor you’d forget them faster than an awful movie—until they become crucial to the entire story’s resolution
