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CHAPTER SEVEN
Ashlyn
Between the booze, the stress, and the incredible softness of Liam’s mattress, I had one of the best sleeps I’d gotten since moving back to San Francisco. By the time I woke up, I was rested but ridiculously hot and bothered. I blamed the endless sex dreams that had plagued me in which Liam Macklen made it his business to put me through my paces.
I had slept on my side, curled away from the living temptation that was my primary client. I shifted in bed, stretching my legs slightly, when I realized that a heavy, muscular arm was draped over my midsection. At the same moment, I registered the soft, rumbling snores that echoed against my back.
Liam had sought me out in the night. Probably unconsciously, I reasoned, and had wrapped himself around me. Even his arm was under my pillow. Heat swamped my body.
He was still deeply asleep, and while it couldn’t be anywhere close to time to get up, I was never getting back to sleep like this.
In the pale morning light, I could admit this to myself. But I wanted to stay where I was. It felt good. Just like he had done when he’d scooped me up in the street, he held me like I was something precious and cherished.
I turned my head against the pillow, rotating my hips just a bit to burrow in deeper. A low, rumbling noise deepened, and the hand resting against my belly moved to my hip. I held my breath.
With perfect practice, his nimble fingers slid over my hip bone, and with another one of those deep rumbles, he dragged my hips back to his.
I gasped. I could feel…well, I could feel everything. He was rock hard, the thick length of him pressed my ass as he spooned me. My heart pounded as I groaned, turning my head a bit more into the pillow. It felt too good. And I could imagine all the ways that he could make me groan against him…or on him. My dreams had been vivid.
His nose brushed the skin under my ear, and I knew there was no avoiding it now. He was waking up, and I was a mess of need and morning breath beneath him. Jerkily, I moved my hips again, unable to stop the soft sounds that slipped out of my mouth.
His lips touched my skin.
It was like fire against my flesh.
And then the band on my hip was tighter as he hauled it back against his cock again. I could feel my body heating, my inner thighs twitching as I felt the ghost of his lips strike just below my ear.
“Did you sleep well?”
I shuddered at the feel of his mouth moving against my neck.
Oh my God, it was too good. I didn’t resist this time, letting my hips rise and fall, rolling gently against him.
This time it was him whose breath caught. “Did you know you talk in your sleep? I heard all kinds of interesting tidbits last night. What were you dreaming about?”
I swallowed, distracted by the hand that had released my hip and now danced across my belly to where it traced the outline of the seam of my waistband.
My mouth was a desert. Every part of my brain completely focused on the tips of his fingers as he dragged them across my belly. The traitorous part of my mind longed to roll my hips to move those questing fingers one way or the other. The other wondered if I should just throw that arm off of me and go dashing into the bathroom to get a grip on myself.
The traitor won out. Ever so slightly, I tipped my head back into that rolling, deep voice and arched my hips against his hand.
“You,” I whispered, my body shivering with the admission and my pleasure.
His chest expanded behind me, and then his mouth pressed against the junction of my neck and shoulder. I could feel his teeth there, and part of my body thrilled at feeling more of his body.
A deep breath shuddered over my skin. He had discovered my secret. I wore nothing under his clothes, no underwear to keep him from the part of me that begged for his attention.
“And what was I doing? In these dreams of yours.” This time when he thrust his hips forward, it was sure, powerful, and I could do nothing but arch my body into it. Reveling in the feel of his body against mine. The hand under my pillow pushed through, finding its way to my breast, where careful, gentle fingers danced across the cotton of the tee between us. It felt like fire, this aching, painful desire burning across my body as I rocked back against him again.
His mouth dragged up to my ear, where his tongue teased the shell, the warm breath panting across it thrilling me with the knowledge that I had worked this man up so much.
His hand below my pants grew bolder. Fingertips skimming the patch of curls. His chest sucked in again, and I slid a band back to grip the smooth edge of his hips. Then deliberately, in a move I barely dared to make, I pushed my hips into him.
“Liam,” I whined, my head restless in the pillow. His fingers—the hot, smooth digits were tracing my skin. Dancing, brushing, barely pressing.
But not like I wanted them to.
He was holding back, and I could barely stand it.
