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“Burger?”
“Pancakes. As a code.”
“You seriously suggesting that?”
“Yup. What have you got to lose, huh? Except get more pissed at me.” A shiver courses through me at the thought, and in response, his hold on me tightens.
“I’d never hurt you, Lu.”
“Not physically,” I mutter, and bite my lip, but it’s too late.
Words keep slipping out of my big mouth today. I blame the tiredness.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
“Look—”
“I won’t hurt you, Luna. I swear. And if I do... then you can call me every name under the sun. You can yell “pancakes”, too, if you want. You’re right, I have nothing left to lose. Not if the other option is driving you away.”
That’s... sweet, I think, as my brain, in the process of shutting down for sleep, puzzles over this statement, teasing the meaning out. He doesn’t want to lose... me.
He’d accept my stupid suggestion so as not to lose me and I’d rush him and hug the hell out of him—only I already am, sort of.
“Deal,” I mumble, grinning, and somewhere in there my eyes drift close and I’m rolling gently into deep dark sleep, safe in his arms.
Isn’t that weird? I think right before I go under, to feel safe in the last place I ever thought I’d feel safe in my life?
***
I wake up lying half atop a rock-solid male body, too warm and yet too comfortable to move, one muscular arm keeping me in place, long fingers splayed on the small of my back—and the top of my ass.
Still too comfortable to move. Actually it feels nice. The way I’m lying, I can feel something long and hard trapped between our bodies, and my belly clenches with a pang of arousal.
“Rise and shine, green eyes.”
“Mmm no. Don’t wanna. This is nice.”
“Yeah, for you, maybe. You’ve been drooling on my chest all night.”
“Lies and slander,” I mumble.
He chuckles, a deep, rich sound. “And you’re still half asleep.”
“Hm. Didn’t know you liked cuddling.”
“Cuddling? This is hardcore snuggling. Besides, I wasn’t given a choice. You clambered all over me as we slept.”
“That’s me. Real hardcore. And... wait a minute. I clambered over you?” I lift horrified eyes to meet his amused ones.
“You obviously can’t get enough of me.” Said in a smug voice that I’d have shot down mere days ago, but today I find... cute. Sexy. Even kind of funny.
“And unless you’re packing a gun, you’re happy to see me,” I quip back, and I’m rewarded by a belly laugh that rattles me around so much I feel it in my bones.
“Goddamn,” he breathes finally. “Yeah, I’m happy to see you, girl.”
It makes me stupidly happy, too. I try to hide it, rubbing my face on his pec. “I should get up,” I whisper. “Must be getting late.”
And we’ve been cuddling, or hardcore snuggling, for God knows how long, and I fully expect him to roll away and get up, only he doesn’t move, except to haul me closer and bury his face in my neck.
