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“See you in your dreams,” I whisper, as my gaze trails along the line of his jaw.
I turn back to my book. But I can’t read a single word.
Somewhere in the distance, I feel an arm tighten around me. I’m curled up, delightfully warm, the sound of the ocean lulling me back to sleep. I force my eyes open and glance down at the heavy weight around my waist.
Lucas’s arm is casually draped over my body and we’re full-on cuddling in bed.
Oh. My. Goodness.
I must have fallen asleep while reading, though I don’t remember it.
What time is it? I fumble for my phone at the edge of the nightstand. My fingers graze the edge, just as Lucas tightens his arm around me, his cheek nuzzling my shoulder. We’re spooning like two peas in a pod. And I can’t move.
Under normal circumstances, this would be incredible.
But this is not good. And definitely bad for the future of my employment.
But I don’t want to stop.
Except if Lucas wakes up, then I’ll possibly be out of a job. For the second time in one summer.
It’s not that it’s wrong. But he’s my boss. And it definitely isn’t right either.
I try to slither out from under his arm toward the foot of the bed without waking Lucas. But he only tightens his hold on me even more. Clearly, this man has a grip of steel. A warm and cuddly grip that does not want to let me go.
I must get out of Lucas’s arms before he wakes up and realizes we’re cuddling.
I grab my pillow and slowly slide it under his arm as I attempt to roll away from him at the same time.
As I do it, I roll off the edge and fall off the bed, hitting the floor hard. My elbow stings, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
I rock back and forth, holding my elbow, tears forming in my eyes, trying not to make a sound.
Lucas stirs. I freeze, hoping he won’t wake up so I can resume my reading position on the bed and pretend this never happened.
“Is it time to wake up?” he mutters. “Gianna?”
He leans over the side of the bed where I’m sitting on the floor.
“What are you doing down there?”
“Nothing!” I say. “Just reading.”
“But your book is on the bed. Under my waist.”
I’m dead. I’m seriously a goner.
“Sorry about that,” I say. The back of my hand grazes his waist as I grab the book. It’s like a hot flame stinging my hand.
“I must have dropped it when I fell out of bed.”
“How did that happen?”
“You know me,” I say, springing off the floor. “Just a klutz. Always rolling off beds.”
He raises his eyebrows. My neck prickles with splotches. I’m a terrible liar. I can’t fool anyone, especially hot guys I’ve been cuddling with.
“We need to get to the kitchen,” I say, smoothing my hair. I fly around the room, putting away things, flustered by his stare. It’s like he can see every thought in my head, every hopeless longing for him.
