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Chapter 8
As Brooke pulled herself from a heavy sleep, she dreamily thought she was in nestingheaven. She was surrounded by soft, fluffy pillows and cocooned in blankets, and her body was snuggled right up against an unbearably warm, strong—
Her eyes flew open.
Oh my god.
The pillows between them had gotten totally askew. And despite her assurances last night that she and Sam would have no physical contact whatsoever, she’d scooched across the mattress and was now half—no,mostly—sprawled on top of him like a kraken clinging to a Spanish ship.
His T-shirt had ridden up at the waist, exposing the ladder-like muscles of his abdomen. A tempting trail of hair disappeared beneath the waistband of his drawstring pajama pants. Her arms were flung out to the sides and her messy hair was spread over his face.
Worse, one of her legs was wedged between his thighs, and her left hand was smack dab on his—
A gasp caught in her throat. Her fingers twitched.
Was that…was he…
Her heart stopped and started again. If Elvis himself had appeared right in front of her that very instant, she wouldn’t have been able to tear her hand away from Sam’s groin.
Because…
Wow.
Heat rose to her throat. Her fingers twitched again, a little more inquisitively this time.
Oh, this was so wrong of her. Based on the deep, rhythmic movement of Sam’s powerful chest against her breasts, he was still asleep. If she moved slowly, she could disentangle herself from him and move back to her own side of the bed without waking him.
Not that she was in any hurry to leave his incredible warmth.
“Unless you take your hand off me, this is only going to end one way.” Sam’s deep voice suddenly rumbled through him. “Much as I’d enjoy that, it would complicate things more than we’d like.”
With a gasp, Brooke yanked herself away from him and bolted back to the other side of the bed. “I amsosorry.”
He chuckled, though his expression was strained. “So am I. Don’t take it personally.”
She blinked. She ratherwantedto take it personally.
“I mean, I…” Swallowing hard, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for sprawling over you like that after I was the one who said—”
“Brooke.” He held up his hand to stop her. His jaw tightened. “Could you give me a second?”
“A sec…oh!” A blush fired her cheeks, and she practically dove toward the blanket wall. “Of course. I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you to your own devices…I mean, to your own…er, I’m just going to make some coffee.”
She scrambled out of the fort as fast as she could. Grayish morning light shone through the windows. She was quivering from the inside out, her legs shaky and her core pulsing. She hurried to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.
She needed to get a grip, and not the sexy kind. She’d learned the hard way that physical attraction was shallow and not to be trusted. She wanted to be attracted to a potential boyfriend, of course, but not at the expense of trustworthiness, loyalty, and true, devotedromance.
Sam may have awakened all her latent desires, but she couldn’t get so blinded by her erotic urges that she forgot her goals for the new year or her vow that she’d prioritize an emotional and intellectual connection with a man over physical attraction.
Then again, it wasn’t as if she wanted a relationship right now anyway, regardless of the “connection.” She was startingherfuture, wherever that might lead her. It was a time of immense change and possibilities. Admitting her deep attraction to Sam didn’t automatically translate to arelationship.
Indulging in that attraction wouldn’t, either.
After using the bathroom, she went into the kitchen to start the coffee. The blanket fort door opened, and Sam emerged—a gorgeous specimen of rumpled, unshaven man with messy hair and his T-shirt still exposing an inch of firm, tanned flesh.
A quick glance downward assured Brooke that the other situation appeared to be somewhat contained.
More’s the pity.
