“Sure,” he agreed.
“We go public. We’re in this. It’s not a secret. We do the whole ‘please respect our privacy’ even though we know they won’t.”
He nodded. “I’m going to let you make this call. Let me know how I can support the effort.”
She glanced at her abdomen, running her hand over the sweatshirt there.
“Why don’t we both go to our respective beds?” he suggested. She needed to rest. Needed to think. He understood that. “Get some shut-eye,” he continued. “Don’t overthink too much. We’ll keep this simple.”
There was a first time for everything.
He turned to leave. To give her the space she needed to decompress.
“Brennan,” she whispered.
He loved it when she called him Brennan. Reminded him he was that kid no one knew existed other than family and his friends. A kid who wanted to be a rock star, but would walk dogs for summer cash while he waited for his big break.
“Love it when you call me that,” he said, turning back to her.
“Maybe we should just try the cuddling part,” she suggested, setting her tea on the coaster and striding toward him.
He didn’t object, because he was either going to get lucky or get some sleep—both things he was good with.
“I could be down with cuddling.” He intentionally let his tone hit that low note from “Get Them Blue.” That had been one of his few original songs.
He opened his arms so she could move in.
Move in she did. Still standing, she settled between his legs so his face was at her chest.
Honest as fuck, he didn’t mind this position, but he wasn’t digging the sweatshirt anymore. This felt more like a skin-on-skin kind of moment.
“What do you think the odds are that we can be less than three feet from each other and not want to get naked?” he asked.
She combed her fingers through his hair, and damn, that felt good. If he had any feline in him, he’d be purring.
“Pretty low,” she said, her hair falling forward into the space between them. There it was, the husky tone of her words.
Coconut and Courtney and—
“I need you.” Courtney adjusted herself so his bare thigh settled between her legs.
“Do you?”
“Don’t be a jerk about this.” She nibbled at his jawline.
“I’m not being anything about anything.” He wasn’t quite able to think with the way she ground herself against his leg.
“Maybe be a bit of a jerk. That’d be okay.”
She pushed him back on the bed and mounted him, one leg on either side of his hips, the core of her pressing against his crotch.
Her eyelids went heavy as she ground against the hard length in his shorts. Dammit, if she kept this up, he’d probably embarrass himself and come in his underwear.
Hands to her hips, he helped center her, held her steady while she used him for what she needed. Wished there weren’t two layers of fabric between their bodies, but willing to give her what she needed.
Right now, she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull off her clothes.
The problem was, if they kept this up, they’d both be suffering—
