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Not that I was complaining—with Dylan pressed up against my side and his arm and leg thrown across my body as though he were holding me captive, waking up was actually one of my favorite times of the day.
“Wakey wakey, Daydream,” I whispered, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
Dylan let out a sexy little groan and stretched. “Don’t wanna.”
“No?”
“Nope.”
“But we have guests coming over.”
“Don’t care.” He snuggled into my side, his warm lips kissing their way across my chest. “I was having the most delicious dream about this hotshot movie star, and how I swept him off his feet and into my bed.”
I chuckled as Dylan shifted on the mattress, his mouth now making its way up the side of my neck. “That’s not how I remember it.”
“No?”
“No. But it’s your fantasy. You can dream about anything you want.”
“Oh, thank God because Jason Momoa looked really amazing in my—”
I tackled Dylan to his back, planting a hand on either side of his head. “You better not be dreaming about any movie star other than the one you’re married to.”
Sharp teeth scraped along my jaw line, and any idea I’d had about leaving this bed suddenly left my head.
“Fine,” Dylan said, his beautiful sea-green eyes twinkling with mischief. “But you better give me something to replace the— Ahh.”
His delicious sigh did wonders for my ego, not to mention my dick, as I ground my hips over his.
“What was that you were saying?” I brushed my lips over the top of his.
“Nothing…” Dylan slipped his hands under my boxer briefs to grab at my ass. “I was saying nothing.”
“I don’t know.” Dylan pumped his hips up, and when his hard cock rubbed up along mine, I smirked. “Sounded like you were wishing there was someone else in this bed with you.”
Dylan shook his head on the pillow, his hair all sexy and mussed from sleep. “Nope. You must’ve misheard me.”
I lowered my head and kissed my way along his jaw to his ear. “Liar. I know how hot you are for Momoa. All those muscles, that long hair…”
Dylan’s fingers tightened on my ass, and he turned his face so we were nose to nose. “And? Don’t act like you haven’t made me watch every single Captain America movie ten times over for the storyline. I know you’re checking out America’s ass.”
I grinned and slipped my hand under Dylan’s hips, then I pulled him up flush against me. “I might be, but America’s finest ass is right here in my bed. It’s also legally mine.”
Dylan drew one of his hands from my briefs and ran it up my arm to test my bulging bicep. “And all these muscles are mine to lick, bite, and feel when you get all possessive.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Can you blame me?”
I rolled to my back, taking Dylan with me, and when he put his hands to my chest and sat up, I groaned. Okay, Chris Evans had nothing on my Daydream. In a skimpy pair of his Calvins, the longer strands of his highlighted hair had fallen down to cover his eyes as he ran them all over me, and he was biting into his lower lip as though imagining which part of me he was going to taste next.
I smoothed my hands up his muscled thighs and over his hips, and when I slipped my fingers into the elastic of his waistband, Dylan slapped them away.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I narrowed my eyes and repeated the move, and this time Dylan took hold of my wrists. “Uh ah. We have guests coming over.”
As my earlier words came back to haunt me, Dylan rolled his hips once, twice, and then a torturous third time and pushed up from me, swinging his leg over me to climb off the bed. Oh hell no.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get ready, of course.”
How Dylan managed to sound so serious while he stood there in next to nothing, and an erection that had to be throbbing as hard as my own, was beyond me. “What? You have at least two hours until anyone gets here.”
“Exactly. One hour to get the house and food ready, and an hour to get myself ready.”
My mouth fell open as I kicked the sheet down my body. “And what about me? You just spent a good ten minutes getting me ready. What am I supposed to do with this?”
Dylan grinned like a fiend and backed up toward the en suite. “I’m sure you can think of something.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Sorry, Hotshot, but you’re on your own. I have two hours, and anything I start with you would eat into a good portion of that. Come see me after brunch.”
“But then we have to get ready for the event.” Yes…I was whining.
