“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Sorry about the comforter. It slipped from my grip as I lowered you to the bed. Close your eyes and go back to sleep. I’ll update you on things in the morning.”
He stepped back and started to turn around.
“Wait.” She sat up and grabbed his hand. “I fell asleep?”
“About five seconds after you closed your eyes in the meeting. You didn’t miss much. We don’t have any good leads yet on your brother. Go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She was in bed. Beau was here with her. Sleep? Heck no. She was wide awake now and ready to test her theory, to work him out of her system.
He tugged his hand to leave.
She tightened her grip.
“Sierra, is something wrong?”
“I just, uh…” She wiggled her toes. “You took off my shoes?”
“I did. Before you get outraged, that’s all I took off. I didn’t figure you’d want your shoes on in bed. Now, if you’ll just let my hand go, I’ll leave you—”
“Don’t go.” She threw the covers off and rose to her knees, taking his other hand and pulling him toward her. “Stay. Here. With me. It’s a big bed. And I don’t snore. Wait, do you snore?”
He chuckled. “Not that I’ve ever been told. I appreciate the offer of the bed, but the couch is quite comfortable. You don’t have to share.”
“I want to. Share.” She stared up into his dark eyes, the dim light from the hallway just enough to highlight the masculine angles of his handsome face. “Everything. I want to share me.”
His eyes widened. He slowly shook his head. “I think you must still be half-asleep, Sierra. I’m Beau Dawson. Police officer. Remember?”
“And I’m Sierra Covington, law-abiding daughter of a less-than-straight-and-narrow man, according to the FBI. If you can look past that, I can look past you being a cop.”
He smiled. “Good to know. But, uh, even though I’m flattered by your…offer, I don’t think this is the right time to—”
“Now is the perfect time.” She tightened her hold on his hands and yanked as hard as she could.
Caught off guard, he tumbled forward, catching himself with his elbows to keep from crushing her. But the lower part of his body was plastered against her.
She wiggled beneath him.
He groaned.
“Don’t try to deny what’s incredibly, impressively obvious. You want me.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t take it personally. My body always reacts this way when a sleepy, gorgeous nymph offers everything and pulls me down on top of her.”
“This happens a lot to you?” she teased.
“All the time. It’s embarrassing, really. Always having to fight off beautiful women throwing themselves at me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. Like I said, don’t take it personally. We both need our sleep, and I really, really don’t think that you’d want this if you were completely wide awake. You’ll thank me in the morning.” He rolled off her to the other side of the mattress.
Before he could get up, she pounced, straddling his hips and holding onto his shirt with a tight grip.
He grabbed her hands to stop her.
“Ouch,” she said, pretending that he’d hurt her.
He immediately let go. “Sorry, did I—” His eyes narrowed. “You little minx. I didn’t actually hurt you, did I? Let go of my shirt.”
