Page 42 of Dirty Fighter

“Considering a career change?” I tease.

“Just giving my agent shit. He was trying to get me to sign on to some endorsement I wasn’t so sure about, and I sent this to him.”

It’s a playful side of this man I’d forgotten about before today. But one I’m hoping I get to see more of.

“Next, please.”

Jason

Nice.

It’s the first thing to creep into my slow-stirring consciousness as I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the subtle scent of something amazing, something I want more of. I start to gather the source of⁠—

Wait.

My eyes blink open, just in time to hear Rowan’s breath catch… against my chest.

Where her head is currently tucked.

With her hair spilling over my shoulder.

My arm wrapped around her back.

Her soft curves pressed into my side.

And a tangled limbs situation so intimate that I can feel the heat of her against my thigh.

Shit.

I say a silent prayer that I can make it out of this bed without the silky perfection of her left leg shifting even an inch higher. Because she’s that close to my dick, and he is an early riser.

Oh, shit.

I peer down and meet Rowan’s wide eyes for one heart-stopping beat… before she scrunches them shut.

“Oh my God, I’m totally on top of you,” she gasps, climbing out of bed with a strained laugh and quick apology.

Rubbing my hand over my stubble-rough jaw, I shake my head. “No worries. Temps dropped and we got a little chilly, is all.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

Even in the muted morning light with a burn of embarrassment darkening her cheeks, she’s painfully beautiful.

She stretches her arms wide, and my mouth goes dry at the way her T-shirt pulls across the swells of her— Shit, don’t look.

Too late.

Memory stored in the forever files.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed so my back is to her, and my morning wood is mostly contained so long as she doesn’t look directly at me.

I let her use the bathroom first, using the time to try and get my head right, and then go in when she’s through.

Arms braced against the wall above the sink, I glare into the mirror.

“Get a grip, man. You fucking know better.”

I do. But damn, waking to Rowan in my arms?