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A soft kiss pressed to the top of my head sent warmth melting through me. No, I definitely didn’t want to wake up.
“Easy, I don’t want to get up, but I’ve got to go to work.”
Easy. Hmm. I thought that sounded like Holt’s sexy voice. I clung more tightly to the dream, though it felt as if it was slipping away.
A laugh rumbled in my ear. I screwed my eyes shut, desperate not to let this go. “I’m flattered. And you aren’t making this easy. But I can’t be late again.”
“Mmm. Keep talking. But not about work,” I mumbled, fighting reality.
Another laugh and I couldn’t avoid him any longer. Bright eyes met mine when I blinked open. I propped my chin on his chest.
“There she is.”
Whoa. His knockout smile sent me spinning. They always did, but this one was different. More . . . real.
“Hi.”
He swept a piece of hair from my face. “Sleep okay?”
“Yeah. Better than okay.”
Last night, I couldn’t get away from the demons. All I’d wanted was Holt. I’d crossed a line by coming to him, but that didn’t stop me. It was a decision I had no regrets over.
“Me too,” he said quietly.
Something cool poked against my back. Blindly, I reached behind me. “What’s your phone doing in the bed?”
A shadow passed over his face and I immediately wished I’d left it alone.
“No reason.” He pulled me closer to him. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I really do have to get up.”
I pushed at him playfully. “Go. The sooner you’re out of here, the sooner I have the house to myself.”
“Are you saying you’re already tired of your roommate?”
“I thought you were going to be late.”
He groaned and threw the covers off. “Fine.” Absently, I traced a pattern across his chest. “Thought you wanted the house to yourself today?”
“I do.”
“That’s not the way to get it.” He flipped me on my back and tickled my sides.
“Holt,” I shrieked, flailing about. “Go away. Go away.”
“Aww. You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I said between laughs. “I definitely do.”
Holt strolled into the kitchen,hair damp from a shower I hadn’t joined him in, with a fresh pair of coveralls on. I steadied myself on the counter, growing warm at the reminder I’d spent the night in his arms.
“I packed your lunch.” I offered him the brown bag.
His startled look gave way to something that appeared in the same family as pleasure. “Thanks.” He leaned a hip against the counter beside me.
“I didn’t make it,” I hastily explained. “Trish did.”
“Yeah? So I guess I need to thank her instead.”
