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He went to his dresser and slowly pulled open the top drawer, grabbing a pair of black underwear and glancing over his shoulder. Thank Christ she was still fast asleep. What would she do if she discovered he was standing next to the bed with his dick flapping in the breeze? Be happy about it? Or freak the hell out?
Well, she was the one sleeping in his bed like some sort of fairy-tale princess. Or maybe he was thinking of Goldilocks. The girl who ate all the porridge and slept in all the beds until finding the one that was just right.
Why did he have the feeling that Wren could be just right . . . for him?
Pulling his underwear on, he went back into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, ran his fingers through his wet hair, and contemplated spraying on some cologne. That would be too obvious. He really just wanted to collapse into bed and fall asleep.
But how could he with Wren in it? Not like he could just snuggle up to her . . .
Could he?
Nah.
Maybe. She was in his bed.
He shut off the bathroom lights and went back into his bedroom, staring at his bed. Wren had rolled over onto her back, her dark hair spread out all over his pillow, the sheets pulled low so he could see she was still wearing his T-shirt. She lay right in the middle of the mattress like some sort of bed hog, and he decided, fuck it. He was too tired to think straight, and no way was he taking that crappy guest bed or the couch.
Nope, he was going to sleep in his own damn bed. Catch a few z’s for a couple of hours and hopefully feel good as new. Then he planned on taking Wren out and having fun. No thinking about fires or replacing things or trying to find a new place to live. Wren needed a day to get her mind off her troubles. And he was the one who was going to give it to her.
Tate carefully pulled the comforter and sheet back and slipped beneath them, the mattress creaking and dipping under his weight. She stirred at the sound, rolling over so her back faced him and offering him more space. He pulled the blankets over him and lay on his right side, his fingers itching to run through her hair. Test to see if it was as silky as it looked.
So he gave in to his urges and touched her hair. Combed his fingers through it, discovering that yes, it was definitely as silky as it looked, maybe even more so. She made a low murmuring sound and thrust her butt out so it brushed against his front, and he was instantly hard.
Gritting his teeth, he disentangled his fingers from her hair and told himself to get a fucking grip.
His hand snuck out to touch her on her lower back, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt until he touched bare, warm skin. Closing his eyes, he kept his hand there, smoothing it along her back until his fingers curved over her hip. He scooted closer, pulling her in, until they were snug against each other like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.
She felt good like this. She was warm and soft and smelled so damn good, he leaned in and sniffed her hair, brushing it aside so he could breathe in the scent at her nape. His cock twitched, but he didn’t want that. Not yet. He was content to just hold her for now . . .
Within minutes of sliding into bed he felt Wren stiffen up, and he knew she was awake. He’d just about drifted off to sleep too when her every muscle seemed to freeze. Hell, he wondered if she was even breathing.
“It’s okay,” he murmured into her hair. It tickled his nose, and he tried to nudge the wild strands out of his face. “Go back to sleep.”
“Um . . . Tate?”
“Yeah, Dove?” He was done running through the various bird names, but Dove stuck. The nickname fit her. Doves were gentle birds. They were pretty and made soft, cooing sounds. He liked them.
Much like the woman in his bed.
“What are you doing?”
“I should be the one asking you that, right? You’re in my bed.”
“Oh. Right.” She sounded almost disappointed.
“Go to sleep,” he commanded again, slipping his arm around her so his hand rested just beneath her breasts. He hauled her in even closer, her knees bending to accommodate his, and he closed his eyes.
Though he was afraid he wouldn’t get any sleep with her delectable body snuggled so close.
“Are you mad?” she asked after a few quiet minutes.
He sighed, pretending she was putting him out. “Why would I be mad? There’s a sexy, warm woman sleeping in my bed. I can’t complain.”
“An uninvited woman.”
“I’d let you in my bed anytime, you know this.” He kissed the back of her head, wishing he were kissing her somewhere else. Hell, they hadn’t ever really kissed, and he was dying to know the taste of her lips.
“So you’re not angry with me?”
