“I am?”
“Yeah. Squeeze me tighter.”
“Like this?”
“God, yeah, just like that. A little to the right, maybe.”
“I can’t get any closer to the right.”
“You could if you hooked that leg over mine.”
He said it in an innocent kind of way, yet it was clear what he was asking. If she hooked her leg over his, she’d essentially be straddling him. She’d be fucking straddling him. She couldn’tstraddle him—not under any circumstances. She needed to think of a way out of this, but how? Solving puzzles was really not her strong suit. She was pretty sure she’d proven that over the last twenty-four hours.
And this was no exception.
“I think I kind of need to pee.”
What sort of person tried to get out of amazing, sensual hugs by mentioning bodily functions like a three-year-old? It didn’t even work, either. All that embarrassment, and it came to absolutely nothing.
“And I guess you think that means I’m going to let go?”
“Well, unless you want to experience your new lady parts.”
“Why on earth would you think I wouldn’t? Now hold on tight.”
“You can’t be serious,” she managed to get out, shortly before he showed her just how serious he was. He didn’t even have to put both arms around her. He just kept that big hand on her back and pushed off from the couch, and suddenly she was hanging off him like a little monkey.
“No no no, I’m falling!” she said, though she understood on some level that it was another kind of panic talking. She wasn’t really afraid of flying off him. Even if she did, what was the worst that could happen? She might bruise her bum. Maybe she’d look like a bit of an idiot.
She already looked like an idiot, so that didn’t matter.
No, no, it mattered that the feelings were still happening. And now that he’d lifted her, they seemed way more intense than before. The open space between her legs was pressing against...she didn’t know what it was pressing against. She just knew it was there, and that there was no way to stop it. She’d semi-linked her legs around his hips the second he’d done it, and she couldn’t back out of that now.
It would look weird. Christ, everything was so weird.
Yet agonizingly, he didn’t seem to notice at all.
“You’re not falling. You just don’t like being lifted up by a big oafish idiot.”
Or maybe he did notice, in the coolest way possible. At the very least he was aware that his manliness was disturbing her—and that relaxed her a little. It gave her the space to tell him it was okay, in a roundabout sort of way.
“I never said you were a big oafish idiot.”
“But you don’t like being lifted.”
“It’s not as bad now that I’m up here.”
“Getting used to it, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said, because she was. She could feel herself slowly calming down. His hand felt really nice on her back, when he held her like this. It wasn’t just a simple cuddling touch anymore, or something that made her think of sexy things. It kept her strapped in, like a seat belt. It kept her nice and safe and secure.
And then she realized what might be prompting such a thought, and suddenly she was back to square one again.
“But you should probably put me down.”
“I don’t think I can. The hugging’s just too good.”
“You won’t think so when you realize how exhausted you are.”
