Page 66 of Playing With Love

“I wish I was a different person,” she whispered.

“I don’t. You’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

On a swift inhale, her eyelids snapped open. Brighter now, tears rimming, too stubborn to give in or let them fall.

Come on, baby, just tell me what’s holding you back.

She reached for her burrito.

And closed down.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I felt my pillow moving under my head as I swam up from sleep. Too warm and comfortable, I fought against waking. I wanted nothing more than to sleep for a year. That was, until my pillow shifted and I felt a feather-light touch on my lower back. The barest hint of fingertips brushed along the elastic of my undies.

Undies.

I moved my legs. One encountered a hard, warm limb that was not mine and the other the smooth cotton of a sheet.

Where were my sweats?

“Gotta get up, Lizzy.” I felt the words rumble through the pillow under my cheek.

Not a pillow. Tucker’s chest.

His bare chest.

I shifted my leg again. Not just a limb, Tucker’s hard, tree trunk leg. A hand wrapped around my thigh, halting my movement.

“Easy, baby.”

Nope.

Not a leg.

An erection.

At some point during the night I’d wrapped myself around Tucker. Cheek to chest. Leg hitched over his hips. Thigh resting on morning wood.

“Um…sorry,” I croaked.

“I’m not.”

And he didn’t sound sorry if his delicious, gravelly morning voice was to be believed. The erection would’ve been another indicator but…morning wood. So maybe the hard-on wasn’t for me and more just the natural state of things.

It became apparent my mouth had a mind of its own when, without thought, I asked, “Why are my pants off?”

I felt his body shake in silent laughter and I squeezed my eyes closed tighter, not wanting anything to encroach while I soaked it in. Soaked him in.

“Don’t know for certain but I think it has something to do with me being hot.”

That had my eyes popping open, and upon seeing the dusting of dark hair on Tucker’s wide chest and a perfectly shaped nipple that I knew from experience was extremely sensitive—if I flicked my tongue over it, Tucker would grace me with a sexy growl—I was no longer sleepy. I was perfectly happy being awake and I’d be more than happy to turn on the lights to get a better look at all that was Tucker Mitchell. I mean, Tucker in the early morning light was a sight to see. But more light meant better sight, and if I could add in touch, it would be the most perfect way to start the day.

Stay on track, Lustful Liza.

Or was I Lecherous Liza, perving on Tucker without his knowledge.

“Hot?” I finally remembered to ask.