Page 226 of Trick or Stalk

I move approximately half an inch.

His arm tightens around me. “Don't.”

I freeze.

His voice is rougher than usual. Sleepy. Sexy. And completely unfair this early in the morning.

“You're awake.”

“I am now.”

“I need to move.”

“Why?”

“Because my neck is going to file for divorce.”

His chest moves beneath my hand when he laughs.

I push myself upright, immediately wincing as several muscles protest. “Jesus.”

“Told you not to move.”

“That wasn't going to fix my neck.”

“You seemed comfortable.”

“I was unconscious.”

“Same thing.”

I glare at him.

His hair is messy. Not styled messy, but actually messy.

He looks damn good.

His sweatshirt is wrinkled, his eyes heavy with sleep, and for the first time since I met him, Hades looks slightly less intimidating.

Still hot.

Still six feet plus of probably has a body buried somewhere.

But softer.

My gaze catches on his mouth.

His eyes drop to mine. And suddenly, there's nothing soft about him.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

My stomach flips.

“Morning.”

His hand still rests on my hip. Neither of us mentions it. Or moves it.

Penny stretches between us, her tiny body somehow occupying three times the space physics should allow.