At first, I think it’s a strange pillow, firmer than the one I’m used to, warmer, and strangely comforting. I snuggle closer, pressing my cheek against it, inhaling a clean, masculine scent that makes my body relax even more.
Then the “pillow” lets out a low, deep groan that vibrates through my entire body.
My eyes fly open. I’m not in my bed.
My head is resting on a hard, muscled chest. Warm skin. Steady heartbeat under my ear. One strong arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me firmly against a very male body.
Maxim.
I fell asleep in his room last night, on the sofa. I don’t even remember drifting off.
My gaze drops lower. The hard pressure against my stomach is unmistakably his erection, through his sweatpants.
Heat floods my face. My heart starts racing.
I could try to sneak out before he wakes up. Slip away and pretend this never happened. Avoid the awkwardness entirely.
But when I glance up, it’s already too late.
Maxim is awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, watching me with a sleepy, heated intensity that makes my breath catch. His voice is rough and gravelly when he speaks.
“Good morning.”
The deep, sleepy timbre does dangerous things to me. A shiver runs down my spine straight between my legs.
“G-good morning,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
I try to move, to put some space between us, but his arm tightens around my waist, keeping me pressed flush against him.
I can feel every inch of his body, the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs, and that very obvious erection now nestled against my lower belly.
“Are you hard right now?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Why did I just ask that?!
Maxim’s lips twitch. A low, amused sound rumbles in his chest. “It’s called morning wood, Calina.”
“Yeah, well… whatever it is, it’s poking me,” I mutter, trying to wriggle out of his hold. But he doesn’t let me go. His arm stays locked around me, keeping me exactly where I am.
His eyes darken as he looks down at me, the sleepy haze giving way to something much hotter.
“What are you doing?” I ask, voice breathier than I’d like.
He doesn’t move. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave?”
Every tiny shift of my body makes his cock twitch against me. I wiggle without thinking, trying to create space, and he lets out a low, guttural groan that vibrates straight through my core.
“That’s not helping,” he mutters, voice rough with restraint.
“Maybe you should just let me go then,” I whisper.
His dark eyes lock onto mine. “What if I don’t want to let you go?”
Before I can respond, he rolls us smoothly so he’s on top, his powerful body caging me against the mattress. His hips settle between my thighs, that hard length now pressed right against my center through our clothes.
Our faces are inches apart. His breath fans across my lips. I can feel the heat of him everywhere.
My heart is pounding so hard I’m dizzy. A huge part of me, almost all of me, wants him to kiss me right now. I want to taste him. I want to feel his weight pressing me down. I want?—
