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Once I’d managed to successfully move her leg, she decided to kill me by scooching her body closer to mine, as if she hated the space there as much as I did. But having her pelvis flat against me, and her hand now sliding to my arm, was going to seriously fuck with my already existing morning wood. Not to mention her tank top was twisted, showing a hell of a lot of side boob—and the woman had great breasts, so yeah, my cock was on high alert.
I dragged my eyes back to her face. To the beautiful woman before me. You’re real. Last month was . . . real. Not some fever dream concocted by my lonely, attention-starved brain.
Her hair was a sexy mess. She’d let it air dry in her sleep, and her long bangs covered one eye. Her lips parted a touch, and I wanted to lean in and capture the soft moan that escaped.
She tortured me by smashing those perfect tits to my chest; she was playing with fire. Arching into me. Rotating her hips in small circles as if chasing an orgasm I’d happily give her if she were awake and asking for it.
I squeezed my eyes closed, doing my best to prevent my body from responding. I refused to reposition myself so she could have better access to what she was searching for in her dream, which I assumed—fuck that, hoped—was my cock. I didn’t want to think about who else she could be dreaming about, or I’d wind up jealous of a fantasy. And that’d be ridiculous.
When her hand went to my bicep and wandered along the ridges of muscle, I figured she was awake. But she’d told me back in South Africa she was a deep sleeper, and from the looks of it, she appeared to also be an active participant in her dreams. Because her body was joining whatever was happening in that beautiful mind of hers.
I tipped my head, catching sight of her ass peeking out from her short shorts. Then I dipped my chin to see the swell of her flesh. With her shimmying, the thin fabric of her shirt had moved to reveal one of her nipples.
I stifled a groan and bit down on my back teeth, remembering we had eyes on us. The cameras. I didn’t need some sicko getting a view of her body like this. Not that I should have a view, either.
Doing my best to move without waking her, or crashing to the floor, I eased back toward the edge of the bed. Her hand fell to the mattress between us, and I reached for the cover, prepared to drape it over her, but went still when she whispered, “Ohhh,” and her hand dove beneath her shorts.
O would officially be my favorite letter from now on.
Her tongue slid along the seam of her lips as her free hand went beneath her top and she squeezed her breast.
“Touch me,” she murmured suggestively, still asleep.
I gulped at the erotic moment happening before me with the woman I’d been fantasizing about for almost a month. I had to get it through my thick skull that she wasn’t asking me to finger her or bury my face between her legs and go down on her. No, she was asking the guy in her dreams. Lucky bastard.
I backed away from her a bit more, then finally got my head on straight and covered her so no one could witness her getting herself off.
Part of me wanted to wake her up, because we weren’t alone in the room, either. I didn’t need Carter or Oliver hearing my . . . My what?
A quick glance toward the bed next to me revealed Gwen and Carter weren’t there. I twisted to the side to clock Mya and Oliver’s bed. They were both asleep, bedding still covering them, so I had no clue if they’d wound up in the same precarious state as Charley and I were now.
Where in the hell had Carter and Gwen gone? Maybe Gray reached out on the phone we’d snuck in?
I focused back on Charley, her mouth was relaxed, and she didn’t appear to be moving beneath the covers anymore. Did she finish in her dream? Climax?
She appeared deeply asleep again, so I quietly slid my legs to the side of the bed and stood, ensuring the cover remained on top of her in the process. Grabbing running shoes and a ball cap from my suitcase, I snuck my way out to the veranda. I sat on the bucket swing out there, sucking in a breath of fresh air as I laced up, doing my best to calm down my dick and heart.
After a few minutes of jogging the trail, hoping to conceal the real reason I was out there so early—to find my teammates and make sure they weren’t in trouble—I made my way to the main lodge area.
I was already sweating even though the temperature couldn’t have been that bad yet. But it was sure as hell humid out. Plus, I was still screwed up in the head from watching that beautiful woman fondle her tit and clit.
Now, I’m rhyming. This is why I don’t date.
Nearing the main lodge building where we’d first been greeted upon arrival last night, I caught a whiff of something I loved almost as much as the feel of my Glock at my back (which I was missing right now) . . . coffee.
I slowed my pace before switching to walking. I swiveled my ball cap forward, looking to shield my eyes a bit as I neared the main area, unsure who I’d come across.
Once inside, I recalled the map in my head that Gwen had provided for where there’d be no cameras and took that route.
I peeked into each room down the one hall. All empty so far, and I was also starting to wonder if I’d hallucinated the coffee aroma.
Where are you two?
Based on what I remembered from Gwen’s map, the next room up was a decent-sized library. Gwen had figured it may have been one of the possible locations for the judges to watch the contestants from a safe distance.
When I stopped by the open doorway, the last thing I’d expected to see was Gwen pinned to a bookshelf clutching Carter’s shirt while they . . . kill me now . . . made out.
“What in the actual fuck is going on?” I murmured, breaking the silence. If I watched my team leader kissing Gwen any longer, I’d take my chances and try my hand at knocking him out. Maybe all the extra work at the gym would come in handy after all.
