I wake up disoriented and confused. Where I’m waking up is nothing out of the ordinary. I was born and raised on my family ranch, so my childhood room is burned into my retinas. It is the scent surrounding me that is brand new. It is virile and sweet, an intoxicating mix of a manly sexiness and fresh flowers. Considering I know the scent is emanating from an extremely alpha man, it should be odd admitting he smells flowery, but for some reason, it isn’t. Floral shampoo and body wash are scents Alex wears well. It is nearly as devastating to my senses as his body curled around mine.
While picturing his enviable lips, chiseled cheekbones, and a jaw that shouldn't be covered with wiry blond hair, the circumstances of our night crash back into me. He comforted me—a man with an impenetrable shell calmed me in my hour of need.
The spell he has had on me since we bumped heads should have lifted, but instead, my quest to bed him is even more ravenous. A weasel of a man would have run for the hills at the first sign of moisture in my eyes. Alex didn't. He bunkered down and rode out the storm. That doesn't just make him admirable; it gains him my respect.
After what he did for me last night, it might not seem like much, but the list of men who have my trust is very slim. The tally now sits at four—sometimes five when Isaac's right-hand man doesn't annoy the shit out of me. Otherwise it was only my dad, brother, and Isaac’s names on my list. Now Alex is listed right alongside them.
Does that mean I'll go easy on him when his panties get in a twist? Hell to the no! Gaining someone's respect doesn't mean boredom. I don't care what Alex says, he loves receiving lip as much as he enjoys dishing it. It keeps us on an even playing field and assures no hesitation when I jerk my elbow back to slam it into his ribs.
“What the fuck?” A smile creeps across my lips from the way Alex gasps the words. “Did you just hit me?”
“No,” I lie, shaking my head. “I was merely stretching. If you weren’t all up in my business, you wouldn’t have got hurt.”
“Up in your business?” I can’t see his eyes, but I don’t need to see them to know they’re burrowing a hole in the back of my head. “I’m sleeping—"
“With your arms wrapped around my waist and your cock digging into my ass.” I grind against him to prove a point.
Mainly.
Not even.
I was merely seeing if my memory was stacked with fact or fiction. It's fact. His cock is as thick now as it was when I was grinding against it Friday night. It's just a pity I couldn't assess its rigidness without my ego being bitch-slapped.
Friday night—a mere two days ago that seems more like a lifetime.
Friday night—the night he dissed me without a word escaping his lips.
Friday night—a night I’d give anything to experience again even with a psychotic stalker and brutal blow to my confidence.
If it weren’t for Friday night, Alex and I wouldn’t be in my childhood home, spooning like an old married couple who bicker as much as we do. I also wouldn’t be tackling issues I should have confronted years ago.
It hurts coming back here, especially this week, but with Alex by my side, the bite is similar to Clancy’s warning gnaw. It cautions of impending danger, but it isn’t painful enough to stop you looking past the storm clouds for the rainbow sitting on the horizon.
I'm returned to the present by Alex's winded remark, "You didn't complain about me being ‘all up in my business' when you were drooling on my chest last night."
My smile widens from his impersonation of my voice, but it doesn’t halt my retaliation. “I don’t drool.”
“Uh, yeah you do. And you talk in your sleep.”
I rib him harder this time. “Better to talk in my sleep than snore as loud as you do.”
“I donotsnore!” He sounds more mortified now than when I confronted him about his cock getting friendly with my ass.
I flip over to face him. Bad move. He’s not wearing a shirt. “Yeah, you do.” The dip in my tone reveals I’ve noticed his shirtless torso, glistening tattooed pecs, and a stomach that should be featured in every men’s fitness magazine in the state. “You were so loud, the pigs oinked back, grateful for your mating call.”
A stretch of silence passes between us, blistering with unbridled lust and excitement. I am consumed by it, utterly defenseless to it. I struggle to breathe through the thickness, but my mouth only opens and closes—no air is sucked in.
Before I can act on one of the many inappropriate thoughts running through my head, Alex throws his head back and laughs. My ability to leave this room without assistance is lost when his deep, husky chuckle vibrates through my body. It is manly and hot and makes me incredibly horny.
Is it possible to come without knowing it? If so, the undeniable wobble of my thighs has me wondering if the thrill from his laughter was just a figment of my imagination. The joy strumming through my veins matches the sensations I experience after I’ve O’d.
Once Alex's laughter settles down, he lowers his glistening baby blues to my face. They are darkened with undiluted heat.
When he attempts to speak, I beat him to it, "Why are you sleeping in my bed?"
“Ah.” He stops talking, seemingly conflicted about whether to tell me the truth or not. He goes for the former when he stammers out, “Your mom thinks we’re an item.”
I cock a brow. “That’s not surprising. She’s an old romantic at heart. She believes she can spot a couple from a mile out. My dad, on the other hand. . .” I leave my question open for Alex to answer how he sees fit.
