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I close my eyes when the room is illuminated and throw off the blanket.
Nothing terrible happens. Cash doesn’t leave the room screaming, nor does he laugh, scoff, or criticize.
“The only crime I see here is you’re a University of Michigan fan,” he says.
I open one eye. “Go Wolverines?”
Cash clucks his tongue. “Now, if this was a Michigan State shirt, I’d see no issues.”
I make a face. “Other than it’s faded and full of holes, and my last boyfriend begged me to toss it into the trash.”
“Eh, it’s not that bad.”
“This from the man who appeared out of nowhere in Paradise Lane with a button-up Oxford.”
“I’d come straight from a meeting!” Cash laughs. “Trust me. I used to wander around this place in nothing but a white undershirt.”
“After you starched it, I’ll bet.”
He scoffs. “No starch in my undies.”
I cover my mouth and giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m picturing you ironing your underwear,” I say with a too-loud cackle.
“Well, it can’t be any weirder than what I’m wearing right now,” he says, rolling away from me and making a sweeping gesture around his midsection.
Oh. This was a bad idea.
I thought suggesting he wear my underwear would be a complete turn-off, but it’s…somehow…working for me? My underwear is tight across his front, so tight that it’s nearly translucent, and I can see not just a bulge but a pretty detailed outline of…everything. Cash’s circumcised dick remains erect. And, ahem, large.
My pulse throbs between my legs, and my mouth salivates.
“We’d better turn off the light and get some sleep,” I say.
Cash arches an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”
“Mm-hmm,” I squeak with an urgent nod.
He gives me a weird look but then reaches across me again, rubbing the soft down of his chest across my shoulder. I spy his nipples—the tips pink and beaded—and fight the urge to lick one.
Then the lights go out again, and I remember what we’re doing here. We’re just snuggling. We’re going to sleep now.
But my senses are reignited when Cash wraps his arms around me and rolls me to his other side.
“You’re an expert snuggler,” I whisper.
His lips find me in the dark, landing a kiss on my nose, my cheek, my jaw, and finally, my mouth. With his arms cradling me close, he delivers one long, slow, deep kiss that leaves me wanting more. So much more.
“Not an expert. We just fit well.”
As he says this, his hand drags down my spine to my lower back, and lower still, caressing my bottom, then hitching my leg around him. I have to fight the urge to whine and rock against him. No, we’re not doing that. We’re not getting each other off while we’re drunk. That would be wrong.
Hmm…exactly how wrong would that be, though?
“Too bad you wasted a month being my nemesis. We could have cuddled ages ago.”
