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As I struggle with what to do, Brogan groans softly and pulls me in, his cheek flattening against the top of my head. His hand moves up, caressing my skin as he goes.
Over the curve of my waist.
Up my ribcage.
Sweeping over my chest.
To my neck.
Back down over my shoulder to my elbow.
He’s still asleep, but my body is not.
Talk about a sticky situation.
Heat flushes through me, throbbing and intense.
My hand falls on top of his.
It does little to slow his subconscious exploration and, by the time I gather my wits, Brogan’s already wound me up to near combustion.
Ah, screw it.
Moving down, I try to rub against him to ease the tension pooling between my thighs.
Just a little further…
A little…
He sighs.
Rolls away.
I stifle a moan when he moves back and out of reach.
Dang it.
I feel him stir.
Yawn.
Then Brogan presses a kiss to the back of my neck.
“Are you up?”
His voice is husky. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
He stretches, his muscles rolling with the movement. “What time is it?”
“Let me get my phone.” I reach over to the nightstand and grab the cell. “It’s six thirty.” When I glance up, I find Brogan staring at me. “What?”
His hand reaches out. Caresses my cheek. “You’re stunning.”
“Uh…” I try to swallow but my throat has suddenly forgotten how it’s supposed to work.
Brogan shakes his head. Turns away. Almost as if he’s talking himself down from doing whatever he’s thinking. “I should run downstairs and grab food from the café. How do you like your coffee?”
