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“Shit, Brooks.” Her eyes open as she hops on her toes. “Shit.”
Laughter works its way up my sides. I draw my hand down her ass, feathering my fingers over the crease between her cheeks.
She hops faster. “I’m so sensitive there,” she says.
“Weed does that to me. Must do it to you too. You don’t have to hop, by the way. I got you.”
She’s starting to giggle. “Why are you laughing? I don’t know why I’m laughing.”
“Because you’re high?”
Her eyes catch on mine. “Because I’m happy. Are you happy too?”
I get that upside-down feeling inside me again. Daybreak in my chest, light flooding the horizon.
“I am,” I say. And I must mean it, because next thing I know I’m on my feet and I’m swooping Greer off hers. I’m burying my face in her neck, tickling her with my scruff. She howls with laughter. By the time I toss her onto my bed I’m laughing so hard I’m not making any sound. Just silent heaves.
I crawl into bed next to her. Have a weird moment where I wish I could unzip my breastbone and cuddle her inside. I want her as close as possible. I wrap an arm around her middle and pull her toward me, finally able to breathe when her body is pressed against mine.
I’m on my side and so is she. We’re facing each other. Our gazes meet.
“Adele would be so proud,” she whispers.
I wipe my eyes. “Fuck, Greer, stop making me laugh.”
“She’d love this for us, setting fire to the rain.”
“Stop.”
“I can’t.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know.” She grabs the covers and pulls them over our heads. Now we’re in a dim, cozy little igloo. “I think I need a nap.”
“I could go for a nap.” I frown. “Did you not sleep well?”
“How could I after that kiss last night?”
My stomach does a neat little backflip. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
“So let’s sleep now.” She swirls her nails across my clavicle and shoulder. Feels nice. I close my eyes, suddenly, deeply drowsy. “You don’t sleep a lot in general, do you?”
“I don’t, no.” And then, because of the weed: “Not by choice.”
She kisses my cheek. “I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”
Again, the weed: “Is that a promise?”
“I promise.”
Chapter Seventeen
BROOKS
I wake up hungry. Thirsty. And hard.
Running a hand up a smooth, naked back, I smile before the realization even hits me.
Greer.
She’s here.
She’s mine. For right now, anyway.
I open my eyes to see the covers have fallen away. Late afternoon sunlight slants through the windows, liquid amber.
I slept.
Holy shit, I actually slept. For a while too.
I feel . . . good. The sandpaper I perpetually have in my eyes is gone. My knees don’t hurt.
So this is what it’s like to be rested. Glorious.
Must’ve been the weed. Or . . .
I glance down and see Greer’s head on my chest. She’s still burrowed against me, same as she was when I fell asleep.
I promise.
She stayed. And now she’s turning her head, her hair tickling my skin. Lazily opening her eyes, she rests her chin on my pec and grins.
“Hi.” Her voice is raspy with sleep.
My dick throbs. Throat tightens. Usually feeling this much makes me want to curl inward. Stay very still until it either passes or I can mentally carve it into smaller, more easily digestible pieces.
With Greer, though, feeling this much makes me want to reach outward. Let it all spill over. I’m safe here, and she’s not scared.
Maybe I shouldn’t be scared to share it either. It’s so warm with her inside the sheets. Warm and quiet.
Peaceful.
So I reach for her. I cup her breast in my hand and thumb her nipple. Her breath catches.
“Tell me if you’re too sore.” My voice is different too.
Greer’s eyes go hot. I notice her pupils are back to their normal size. “Not enough to keep me from trying something new. A different position?”
Always voracious in her quest for knowledge.
My mouth is on hers half a second later. I glide a hand down her side and grab her ass. Press her against my erection, her pubic hair tickling my groin. She brushes her mouth against mine. Tender. Soothing.
Her hand finds its way to my nape. She runs her fingertips through my hair, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. Feels so good when she does that.
For several beats I let her do her thing. She plays with my hair. Kisses my cheek. My neck. Draws her fingernails over the skin on my chest, making me groan. I nuzzle my face in the crook of her neck. Inhale the scent of her skin. I smell the hotels’s soap, floral and earthy. I taste salt from the sweat breaking out along the column of her throat.
Caught between us, my dick is pounding with need. I pull her closer, curling both my arms around her middle as I press a kiss to her shoulder. She pants.
