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The warmth of his body hits my back, but instead of asking him to face the other direction—because at this point, we’re playing big spoon-little spoon—I let out a breath, and close my eyes, praying that I’ll make it through tonight unscathed. I’ll worry about how this is going to work for the next few days tomorrow.
The first thing that registers is how warm I feel, the second is that I’m plastered to Thorin’s side, my leg thrown over his thigh and the morning wood brushing against my inner leg. The third is that Thorin’s big, muscular arm is around my waist, his hand cupping my bare ass beneath my silk night shorts. I vaguely recall him getting up a few hours ago to feed Eli, but I certainly wasn’t wrapped about him like I am now. My pulse starts to race a little faster, my heart trying to break free from my chest. But Thorin’s pulse, conveniently situated under my ear, is steady, and strong, and I realize he must still be asleep. I didn’t exactly factor this into how our situation could get worse, but I should have because this is so not good. I shift, becoming painfully aware of how hard my nipples are, and when I try to move my leg, Thorin’s grip tightens, and his dick…well, if it’s possible, it gets harder. My body freezes, my ears perking up at any indication that Thorin is awake, and not just dreaming. I try to move again, but instead of moving away, my leg moves and the heat of Thorin’s skin burns between my legs. As if responding to the most natural thing in the world, my hips start moving, and my breathing falters when my pulse travels down between my thighs. Worst possible time to be turned on, but in my mind the rationale is that I haven’t had a man touch me intimately since college.
Thorin moves, and before I can push him away or object, he rolls me over and settles between my legs. He watches me with stormy, almost-cobalt blue eyes, and I have to wonder if he’s still dreaming, or maybe he just thinks I’m someone else. Either would be preferable.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my hands clutched together between us.
“It’s either this, or you keep rubbing yourself on me, Reese Pie.” His voice is so much sexier than I imagined, and sadly, I’ve always wondered what his voice sounds like first thing in the morning. It’s already deep, and throaty, but now there’s an extra layer of sleepy rasp that has my body on full-alert.
“A-and,” I blink once, twice, “this seemed like the better option to you? Why not just push me off? Or better yet, wake me up before I make a fool of myself?” Because yes, I feel totally and utterly foolish. And embarrassed.
“Can’t blame me for wanting to know what you feel like.” He says it simply, like duh, of course this is the better option, but the inflection in his voice has me believing he really wanted to know. This is dangerous territory for both of us, it can and will complicate things, and for the record, since when should not sleeping with Thorin be on my list of things to worry about? It shouldn’t, but damn if I’m not curious now. His broad body dwarfs mine, my hands itch to travel the expanse of his neck, his traps, his glorious shoulders, and biceps, and every curve that makes up the valley of his back. I used to wonder what he looked like naked when we were in high school, when he filled out and became the embodiment of every high school girl’s dream, but this is wildly different because he was a boy then. Now, he’s all man, and adult Reese realizes she’s in over her head. Not that teenage Reese felt any differently when it came to the boy she pined after. My phone rings next to bed, making me jolt.
“I’d better get that.”
Thorin smirks like what’s happening is no big deal—bastard— and rolls off me, taking perch on his side of the bed. With trembling fingers, I answer my phone.
“Hello?”
“Did you just wake up?” Mya asks. I can practically hear her laughing at me.
Not exactly, but there’s no way I can ever tell her what just happened. Not that I’m convinced I didn’t imagine it all to begin with. “Yes,” I lie. “What’s up?”
“Get dressed, and meet me downstairs for breakfast. We have to be at the studio in a little over an hour.”
“Okay. We’re doing mostly clothes today, right?”
“Yes, I sent Thorin’s measurements the day before yesterday so they should have samples we can we do a photoshoot with.” I blow a strand of hair from my face. “Will they have enough for the product launch? We only have a few weeks, and this is the only chance we have to get it all ready.”
“Relax, everything’s just about ready. We just have final fittings for you today, and if they have no problems with Thorin’s sizes, the men’s range will be ready just before the launch. Then, we having a meeting with the tech company so they can add the men’s workouts, but that’s tomorrow, I think.”
Nerves take hold of every fibre of my being, and not only because this is all a dream come true, but also because Thorin is now part of that dream and it’s not a place I ever envisaged him being. Not that I envisioned him in my future at all. “Reese, you still there?”
I shake my head, exhaling loudly. “Yeah, I’m here,” I pause, wondering if I should tell Mya about this morning. Then I think better of it because Mya will have mine and Thorin’s wedding planned in a heartbeat. “I just can’t believe it’s all finally happening,”
She hums. “Is that all it is? You sound tired. Everything go okay last night?”
I glance over my shoulder and see Thorin feeding Eli. “Aside from having to share a bed with the God of Thunder? Everything’s just freakin’ peachy, Mya.”
She giggles. “I want the details, you hussy.”
“There are no details,” I grumble. Not the whole truth, but Mya would have a field day finding out I woke up rubbing myself all over Thorin. Better keep that shit to myself. “He took up most of the bed, I almost slept on the damn floor.”
Not the floor, I remind myself, but definitely on his body.
“Hmmm, I’m sure he would have let you crash on the floor, Reese Pie.” The sarcasm with this one is heavy, folks.
“He’s a brute, and best you remember this is a business transaction,” I tell her. “I have to get ready, but we’ll meet you downstairs in a few.”
I click end to the sound of her laughter. Best friends can be a pain in the ass sometimes, especially mine. I brush her nosiness aside and get ready for my day. I dress Eli while Thorin changes, and we make our way downstairs for breakfast in what feels like silence. Except the air crackles, and sizzles arounds us like a living thing, and I’m so strung, I might as well be a walking live wire. Not that Thorin notices. He’s Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected, lapping up some attention he gets from guests who stop to fawn over Eli. Thorin’s smile is genuine, but also filled with pride and love. When we get to the table, Mya’s already munching on a croissant, and scrambled eggs and bacon, tapping away on her iPad Pro. She smiles, but whatever pleasantries she’s exchanging with Thorin goes unnoticed by yours truly. I fix a bowl of granola and yogurt, and listen when Mya gives us the run-down of today’s itinerary. Forty-minutes later, we’re catching an Uber to the studio in the Garment district, where my clothes are being made. Tasha, the head designer, is there to greet us, and after a few minutes of chatting, she sets us straight to work. Mya takes Eli, straps him to her chest, and moves to where the photographer is setting up. Thorin is sent to one part of the studio, and I’m sent to another. People start helping me change, choosing which items will be photographed first, and as soon as I have a moments reprieve, I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m not tall, but what I lack in height, I make up for with strong shoulders and arms, a trim waist that took a good three years to achieve, and muscular legs that are still very feminine. The powder pink, high-waist fleur texture leggings hug my stomach, and accentuate the curvature of a body I made, and the matching sports bra gives my breasts a little extra va-va-voom in the cleavage department. We had to get the nylon-polyester-elastine ratio just right with all of the items I wanted, going for both comfort and breathability. I’m all for working up a good sweat, but I don’t like ‘sweat spots’, hence having material that breathes. I smile at my own reflection, and resist the urge to do a fist-pump in the air because after months of hard work—researching the right designers and manufacturers—I’m ready to give my fans my absolute labor of love. I want them to feel as good about themselves as I do right now. The curtain opens abruptly, and I spin around. Mya grins. “Girl, you are slaying that outfit. If I had a dick, it’d be hard right now.”
I laugh, but a throat clears behind her. I look to see Thorin standing a few feet away, his gaze traveling the length of my body, and, because I’m a sadist, I do the same. Dressed in a pair of navy joggers, and a white stringer, he looks like what we call a gym rat, like he wears these kinds of clothes all the time. And if he had to really start training in my men’s gear, not a single woman in the gym will get their workout done because Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it’s just muscle. Everywhere.
“Don’t you look spiffy,” Mya tells him. “I see they got your sizes right.”
“Only because you snatched some of my clothes, and sent it to them.” He doesn’t look pissed, but then again, he’s not looking at Mya while he speaks to her. He’s looking at me, and God only knows what goes through his head when that happens.
“Okay, kids,” Tasha hoards me and Thorin towards the hair and make-up table, gets us freshened up—I get two French braids, and Thorin’s bun is neatly tied up a little higher on his head—and then directs me to the photographer, Phillipe. His black hair is peppered with gray, but he’s well-built, and has been photographing athletes from all over the word for almost twenty years. Not to mention, he knows the inside of a gym really well. It was the reason Mya and I wanted him on this project. He shakes my hand. “Nice to see you again, Reese.”
