Expectation: Great, now I’ve had sex.
Reality: Holy fuck, how am I going to not have sex with this man ever again?
A jarring question that only grew more desperate when his fingertips began traveling up my side. It took everything in me not to arch my back against his waiting dick.
“Good morning,” he breathed.
And it was. It was the best morning I’d had in a long time.
What a nightmare.
“Good morning,” I squeaked. “Did you sleep all right?”
A breathy chuckle. I guess that wasn’t what most girls said after a guy’s first sleepover.
“You really don’t know what you did to me, do you?” he asked.
“I have an idea.”
The trail of his fingers up my body was slow—brutally slow—and their destination was clear. My nipples grew hard in anticipation.
“No, you don’t.” He traced a half moon around the base of my breast. A tease. “You wouldn’t ask that question if you knew. You exhausted me. I’ve never gone to sleep so satisfied. And I’ve never woken up quite so—”
A thrill of pleasure raced through my body as he brushed my left nipple. My eyelids fluttered closed.
Then I jumped out of the bed like it was on fire.
Problem: I can’t have any more sex with Hudson Bailey. It’s a distraction.
Proposed Solution: Get the hell out of here. Gethimthe hell out of here before you invite him to stay.
“God, you must be so ready to get going, huh? Don’t want to be late to the office.” I scrambled around the room in search of clothes. Where had they gone? “You should probably go in first, then text me and let me know when you’re in so I can follow. Don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”
When I couldn’t find any damn clothes on the floor, I glanced up at him. He’d sat up against my headboard, legs lazily spread so his proud cock announced its presence beneath the sheet draped around his hips. Hudson fixed me with a look somewhere between amusement and confusion.
It was a sweet look. One that made my heart and not my pussy flutter.
I…I liked waking up to him. I liked seeing him in my bed. I liked being the reason he smiled first thing in the morning.
Fuck it. I didn’t need clothes right that second. I just needed to get some space.
“I’m going to make coffee,” I said too brightly. “Do you want coffee?”
“You don’t drink coffee,” he reminded me.
But I was gone, escaping into the kitchen. We’d left it a mess last night, having taken snack breaks between sessions.
As some rustling indicated he was hunting for his own clothes, his voice reached me. “Is everything okay?”
How dare he be thoughtful and considerate? I focused on the cabinets, where I had to havesomecoffee, right?
“Never better,” I lied. “Just want to be respectful of your time.”
“And what if I want to spend that time with you?”
“We have work.”
“And after that?”
