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I’m caught red-handed yet still, I fake a yawn. “I am now.”
“Why’re you in here?”
“It’s my room.”
Jesus, I can practically hear his frown, and in an effort to obliterate it, I change the subject. “How was training?”
Cass mutters an uninformative, “Fine,” before burying his head in my neck. “Go to sleep.”
As pathetic as it sounds, I do. Almost instantly, soothed by the familiar, comforting warmth and smell of him.
I’d bet money those are also to blame for the hormone-charged dreams I have.
I jolt awake, hot and sweaty and beyond flustered, and it only gets worse when I roll over.
Because Cass is still awake. Shirtless body illuminated by the dim light of a bedside lamp. Wearing reading glasses and skimming a baby book.
“What the fuck?” I groan as I roll onto my back, the heels of my hands digging into my eyes.
Cass’ freaking four-eyed gaze flicks to me. “What?”
With one hand, I gesture at… him. All of him.Asshole.
“What?” he repeats, making a poor attempt at stifling a laugh. When I uncover my eyes and flop towards him, he waggles his brows. “Am I turning you on?”
Whacking him with a pillow only makes him laugh harder.
“This is what does it for you, sunshine?Reading?”
Flipping him off, I scramble out of bed. I try to make a beeline for the bathroom but a fist grabbing a handful of my t-shirt foils my escape attempt. “Where’re you going, baby?”
I swat him away with a deadly, frustrated glare. “Well, you’re not going to help, are you?”
For a split second, Cass freezes. His playful expression settles into a serious, thoughtful frown as he inhales deeply, exhaling with a kiss of his teeth. In the slowest, sexiest way, he takes off the glasses I didn’t know he wore until right now. He folds them, places them on the nightstand, then places his book next to it before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Lazily leaning back on his palms, he cocks his head. “Are you going in there to get yourself off, Sunday?”
I hesitate before nodding—I probably would’ve chickened out before actually doing it, but that certainly was my intention.
“With what?”
“You think I went a decade with no sexandno sex toys?”
Cass’ eyes flutter shut as he stutters a breath. When they reopen, they’re dark—daring. “Go get it.”
The brazen confidence I was clinging to with both hands abruptly dies.
A reprimanding tut licks a path of fire up my spine. “C’mon, Sunday. Don’t make me ask twice.”
It’s like his voice has a direct connection to my pussy, my thighs clenching in a futile attempt to ease the growing ache between them. I’m not sure I make a conscious decision to do what he asks; I just know one minute, I’m in my bedroom, and the next, I’m in the ensuite, delving into the drawer that holds tampons and pads—the one place August would never dare snoop—and retrieving my favorite vibrator; tiny but powerful and, most important of all, relatively quiet. With wobbly legs and the toy hidden in my clenched fists, I rejoin Cass. When he pats his thigh, I do what he silently asks and straddle his lap. I shiver when his hands slip beneath my t-shirt and land on my bare hips, and again when lips graze my neck. “You want some help, sunshine?”
I stare at the wall and try to remember how to breathe.
Cass finds humor in my silence, chuckling as he kisses my neck and coaxes my fist open, transferring the vibrator from my grip to his. “You know you don’t have to ask. Whatever you want.”
The quiet hum that fills the room as he clicks the toy to life is as tangible as the hand between my legs, coaxing my shorts to the side. Cass’ groan is nothing short of tortured; a noise I echo when he drags a finger through my wetness. “No panties?”
“They’re uncomfortable.” And, at six months pregnant, I’m already plenty of that. Removing one aggravator from the equation is a no brainer. “I don’t like wearing them.”
Cass hisses through his teeth. “Are you telling me you’re walking around all day without panties on, Sunday?”
