Chapter 8
Jake
I wake slowly, drifting up from sleep like surfacing from deep water.
The first thing I notice is warmth. The second is weight. Soft and familiar, pressed against my side. Madison has migrated again in her sleep, her body wrapped around mine like I'm her personal pillow. Her head rests on my chest, one arm draped across my stomach, one leg thrown over my thigh.
I don't move. Don't want to disturb her. Just lie there in the gray morning light, watching her sleep.
She's beautiful like this. Unguarded. Her lips are slightly parted, her breathing slow and even. Dark lashes fan against her cheeks.
I could watch her for hours.
The thought should alarm me, but it just settles into my chest like it belongs there.
A week ago, I would’ve called this a complication. A woman in my bed. Soft. Attached. Like she expects something from me.
Now all I can think is how quiet this house is going to feel without her in it. How empty this side of the bed will be tomorrow night.
The idea lands heavy. The house is going to feel too quiet tomorrow.
My free hand finds her leg, the one draped over my thigh, and I stroke it absently. Slow, gentle passes from her knee to her hip and back again. Her skin is impossibly soft under my palm, warm from sleep.
She moans.
The sound goes straight through me. Her thigh shifts higher, and suddenly her center is pressed directly against my erection.
I suck in a breath. She's still asleep, but her body knows exactly what it's doing. Her hips rock slightly, an unconscious movement that sends sparks shooting down my spine.
I should wake her. Should put some distance between us before this goes somewhere we can't come back from.
I should ask her to stay, say something real before I touch her like this.
But if this is the last morning I get with her in my bed, I’m not wasting it pretending I don’t feel what I feel. Instead, I do the opposite.
One smooth motion and I'm over her, bracing my weight on my forearms, looking down at her sleep-soft face. Her eyes flutter but don't open. A small frown creases her brow.
"Jake?"
"Shh." I lower my mouth to her neck, pressing a soft kiss to the curve where it meets her shoulder. "This is a dream. Don't wake up."
She hums. A sleepy, contented sound, and tilts her head to give me better access. I take full advantage, trailing kisses along her throat, behind her ear, across her jaw.
"Good dream," she murmurs.
"The best."
I kiss down her body slowly. Her collarbone. The swell of her breast through her thin sleep shirt. The soft plane of her stomach. She shifts beneath me, making small sounds of pleasure, still hovering in that hazy space between sleeping and waking.
When I reach the waistband of her flannel pants, I hook my fingers in the fabric and slide them down. Slowly. Savoring every inch of skin I reveal.
She's not wearing panties.
The discovery hits me like a punch to the gut. She's bare underneath, already glistening in the pale morning light, and I have to close my eyes for a moment just to breathe.
"Madison," I rasp. "You're going to kill me."
"Mmm." She stretches lazily, her back arching off the mattress. "Still dreaming."
