Page 92 of Hard Rain

Better.

He closed his eyes again.

Five more minutes wouldn’t kill anybody.

Not even Boone.

BACK TO WORK

A Steller’s jay raised hell outside the bedroom window, pulling Whip from sleep. He yawned as he stretched. The weight at his side drew his attention to the man still sleeping beside him. Beside him was an understatement.

Axel had somehow managed to migrate across an entire king-size bed during the night.

Considering the man could sleep through thunderstorms, gunfire, and Boone pounding on a motel door, Whip doubted the bird outside had even registered.

Which meant some part of Axel had already decided where he belonged.

The thought settled somewhere warm in Whip’s chest before his brain promptly betrayed him.

Without moving much, he took inventory. Sometime during the night Axel had decided personal space was optional and draped an arm and a leg over him.

He smiled. He didn’t mind that one bit. Not even a little.

The strange part wasn’t waking up tangled together. The strange part was how quickly it already felt like something they’d been doing for years.

Which was probably why his traitorous brain chose that exact moment to wander back to the conversation they’d had in the bathroom.

We don’t have condoms.

Of all the memories his brain could’ve latched onto first thing in the morning, it picked that one, and before Whip could stop it, his thoughts had already skipped ahead to the next logical question.

Who was topping?

He closed his eyes with a silent groan. Good Lord. He was lying here mentally planning sex like it was a warrant service, assessing the situation, identifying potential problems, and developing an operational plan before either of them had even had coffee.

His face heated. He was actually making mental lists.

Beside him, Axel made a sleepy grunt and pulled him another inch closer. Well, that certainly looked like a point in the Axel tops column. Then again, the man was unconscious, which probably made the evidence inadmissible. Hard to build a case around the subconscious.

Crap.

He needed coffee. Lots of coffee, preferably before his own imagination arrested him.

Easing away became a whole other challenge, but eventually Axel loosened his grip enough to let him slide out of bed without waking him. At least, that had been the plan.

“You sneakin’ off?”

Whip looked over his shoulder.

One blue eye peeked out from beneath a mess of dark hair.

“I’m making us coffee.”

“That better be where you’re going.”

Whip laughed.

“Where else could I possibly go?”