Page 207 of Faking the Goal

"Fine," she grumbles.

A chuckle slips out of me before I can stop it.

She looks so ridiculously cute right now that for one dangerous second, I nearly forget the entire speech I just gave her. My gaze drops to that pout, and the urge to kiss it off her is immediate enough that I have to drag my attention back to her eyes.

She's still staring at me, all sleepy and disgruntled, like I've personally ruined what she considered a perfectly reasonable plan for the evening.

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. "You know what the worst part is?"

"What?"

"You probably aren't going to remember half of this conversation tomorrow."

Her pout slowly gives way to a sleepy grin.

"Yeah," she admits with a tiny giggle. "Probably not."

"Figures."

I settle beside her again before she can come up with another argument, this time turning her toward me and pulling her against my chest. She goes willingly, burrowing into me with a contented little sigh, one arm flopping across my waist.

For several blessed seconds, she's quiet.

Then, muffled against my chest, she murmurs, "You're my big sexy body pillow."

I look down at the top of her head.

"I'm your what?"

"My big sexy body pillow," she repeats sleepily. "All warm. Muscles. And you hug back." She snuggles closer. "Best body pillow ever."

A laugh slips out of me. "Is that right?"

When she doesn't answer, I glance down at her.

"Trouble?"

She's out.

Just completely fucking unconscious against my chest after spending the last ten minutes systematically dismantling my sanity.

I stare at her for a second before shaking my head and pulling the blanket higher around her.

"Unbelievable," I whisper.

She snuggles closer in her sleep.

And because apparently I have no dignity left where this woman is concerned, I smile and tighten my arms around her anyway.

CHAPTER 27

TAYLOR

Something warm and solid presses against my cheek, and for one blissful moment, I assume I'm dreaming. The good kind too—the kind where my alarm clock is still hours away from its inevitable betrayal and apparently my subconscious has decided to reward me with a ridiculously hot man to cuddle.

My hand drifts lazily over a broad chest, and—oh.

Oh, hello.