“That was cute,” I whisper, feeling myself blush.
“What?”
“That noise you just made.”
I feel a soft laugh against my hair. Then he holds me tighter and makes that low, satisfied noise again.
“Did you sleep?” I ask him.
“All night.” He sounds surprised.
“It’s the power of my blowjobs.”
That gets me a chuckle. “I don’t think we moved from this spot the entire night.” He runs a hand along my bare arm up to my shoulder, where he toys with the strap of my tank top. “Usually I’m tossing and turning and getting everything tangled up.”
“Yeah, because you don’t actually sleep. But I remmed you.”
“I’m sorry—did you just say you rammed me?”
“No, I remmed you. Like, I made you feel so good that you fell into a deep REM cycle.”
He trembles with laughter. “I got remmed all right. Remmed real hard by that sweet LMD.”
Now I’m the one howling. “Oh my God.”
“What? You’re denying you gave me some Logan Mouth Delight last night?”
“No.” I’m laughing so hard, I can’t stop hiccupping. “But that’s mydad’sdrink. Now I can never have it again without thinking about blowing you.” I gulp in a breath, trying to compose myself.
Wyatt tugs me toward him again. When his forearm brushes my breasts, teasing a nipple, a shiver runs through me. Feeling that, he cups my breast, then gives the nipple a light flick, drawing a tiny moan from my lips.
“Do you like that?” he murmurs, and in the blink of an eye, the air in the bedroom goes from light to heated.
“Uh-huh.”
It’s impossible to form words when he’s toying with my nipple like that. He pinches it, and I moan again. He teases my breasts for a bit before lowering his hand to the waistband of my shorts. He curses when he realizes I’m not wearing underwear beneath them.
“No panties?”
“Nope.” I gasp when he slides his hand inside my shorts. “What are you doing?”
“Playing. Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” My voice sounds breathy to my ears.
His index finger brushes over my clit before he cups my pussy in his palm. Heat jolts through me. I rock my hips slightly, and though I can’t see his face, I can practically hear him smiling.
“You’re so wet this early in the morning,” he muses. “Are you into morning sex?”
“Are you offering?”
“No,” he says, even as he slips two fingers through my slit to tease my opening.
“Then what is this?” I challenge.
“Playing,” he repeats. “Lift up this leg, freckles.”
Disappointment clenches in my stomach when he abruptly moveshis hand, but it’s only because I’m apparently not lifting my leg fast enough for him. With a deliberate pat, he grips my knee and slides it up, giving him better access to the spot that’s aching for him. Then his hand is back, stroking and teasing, dipping into the arousal pooling at my core.
