She blinked, and in that split second he looked away, staring fixedly at a spot past her head, and his face was so blank she might as well have completely dreamed up those sexy bedroom eyes.
She wiped the drool from her chin as discreetly as she could. She’d fallen asleep hard after the more than perfect orgasm he’d given her. “How long have I been, uh...”
“On top of me? A while, I think. I can’t imagine you were very comfortable, but you were clinging so tightly I didn’t want to risk waking you by moving you.”
She fought her blush. While she hadn’t gotten a full report from past lovers on how she slept, she was pretty sure none of them would describe her asclinging.
To think she’d been worried she would punch the guy if she brushed up against him in her sleep. Instead, she’d climbed on top of him like he was her own personal mountain.
So, so far, sleeping with Krish did not trigger her PTSD. Good to know. “Sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine. I didn’t mind. You were tired. And I was cold, anyway.” He sat up. They’d kicked the blankets to the bottom of the bed, and the chest she’d spent the whole night lovingly nuzzling was on full display.
He had a disgustingly beautiful chest, and it gleamed in theweak, golden sunlight. Strong, big, with a smattering of hair covering it. His belly had a slight curve she wanted to nibble at. His plaid pajama pants hung low, right over his hip bones.
The soft cotton clung to his erection, which was something else she wouldn’t mind nibbling on. She’d had some vague idea of doing exactly that after her climax, but then sleep had called her.
“Sejal?”
She jerked her gaze up to his, guiltily. “Ah, sorry,” she said again.
“For what?”
“For leaving you, ah—” She gestured to his general pants region. “Unsatisfied last night.”
He looked down and then back up, and she was surprised to see that his cheeks had darkened. Was he blushing? “I, um—” He shoved himself off the bed, nearly tumbling onto the floor before catching his balance and coming to his feet. He turned his back on her. “It won’t kill me.”
Cynicism made her lips curve. “Most men would say different.”
He grunted. “Boys. A man can control himself. Besides, I prefer what we did... that is, there’s different kinds of satisfaction.”
She clutched the neckline of her shirt, and she wasn’t sure if she was preparing to tear it off or to keep it on. Because apparently, if there was anything that could tempt her into giving a blow job, it was a man who would rather go down on her.
He went to the foot of the bed and picked up the fresh clothes they’d kicked onto the floor. “But of course, that was a mistake.”
She blinked at him. “Huh?”
“That.” He cocked his head at the side of the bed, where he’d worked her over like a maestro. “I’ve been thinking about it. We must have been reacting to the stress of everything. Because we were finally in a safe place. It was a release, an outlet.”
Oh. Her hand fluttered to rest on the pillow. That sounded reasonable.
She hated it.
Because what she’d felt last night—hell, what she was feeling right now—wasn’t reasonable. It wasn’t even something she could put into words.
What had culminated between them with his mouth on her body hadn’t been merely an adrenaline release. This same spark had been smoldering since she’d first laid eyes on him.
“I mean, you and I... that would be ridiculous, with everything between us.”
“Ridiculous,” she repeated.
“Don’t worry. It won’t happen again,” he continued, casually, like it was fuckingeasyto promise to never touch her again.
Irritation made her voice sharp. “Well, that’s a relief.”
He held the new clothes in front of him like a shield. “You okay?”
“Yup.” She gave him a smile that she feared looked more like a grimace. “You’re right. Mistake.”
