She pushes herself up against the headboard. The sheet falls away and she’s suddenly all bare skin, laid out for me, with nothing but her bra between my mouth and what I want. Heat slams through me but I clamp down on it out of habit.
Her lips twitch when she catches me looking. “Guess I got hot last night.”
She pushes herself up even farther against the backboard, allowing the blanket to fall to her hips. I should look away.
I don’t.
She knows she put more skin out there for me to see. And somehow, the morning humility in her eyes has been replaced by something more daring. I didn’t stay for…this. But there’s no mistaking the invitation is still in that sultry gaze.
Silence stretches. She sips the drink, twists the cap back on, and when she leans over to put it back on the nightstand, the blanket dips lower, revealing a pair of black lace panties.
“You know…” She tilts her head, frizzy curls reminding me I’ve been here all night next to this goddess and did nothing.
Maybe Iama saint.
She crosses her arms, and her tits push up. “I’m disappointed.”
Me fucking, too.
“Yeah?” I scratch my eyebrow, anything to stop staring. “Why?”
“I have to leave today. It feels like everything important happens when I’m packing my bags.”
I watch the light crawl over her shoulder, the hollow of her throat.
She bites the inside of her cheek while staring at me.
She lets out a big sigh. “You look cold.” She flips the covers off her completely, now revealing those long legs of hers and the V between her thighs.
She pats the bed next to her. “Come here.” Her lipscurve. “You carried me upstairs, held my hair, and babysat me all night. I think you’ve earned half the covers.”
I guess just one night turned into just one morning.
“I don’t get into bed with my clothes on.” My gaze darkens. “It’s the only dirty thing I don’t do.”
Her lips part.
Somehow, despite my cock pressing painfully against my jeans, the part of me that stayed up all night to make sure she was okay tightens its grip. “We didn’t do this for a reason.”
I was staying here. I didn’t want to hold her back.
But that version of us is already gone.
She gathers my fingers in hers and plays with them. “It could complicate things.”
I can’t take my eyes off how good our hands look together.
“Or”—her words are careful— “it might make them simpler.”
I glance up, and her eyebrow is arched.
I run the back of my finger down her bare arm and test the idea. I know what she’s thinking. Maybe giving in would crush the fantasy a little.
But nothing about the way her skin feels under my touch suggests we’re simple.
She watches my hand, then looks back up at me. Her words are nearly breathless. “See? Very practical.”
The laugh that comes out is rough and feral. “You’re trouble.”
