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It belongs to Max. Oh my word, we are spooning. He is the big spoon, and he’s wrapped around me, his nose pressed into the nape of my neck. Our legs are tangled together, and his hand is sprawled across my belly.
My mouth opens in a silent gasp, while he snores away, the soft vibration causing little goose bumps to form on my neck. I turn my head to the left a few inches and spot the sleeve of his T-shirt. We’re both clothed.
My heart is jackhammering against my rib cage. I don’t remember when he came to bed, probably because I’m a deep sleeper. I also don’t recall when we started spooning. Max is one of the few people I can hug without feeling odd. Even with some of the men I’ve had sex with hugging and nonsexual intimacy have been difficult.
It never was with Max.
I blink a few times in the dark, wondering if I should get up and sleep on the sofa. Or wriggle out of his embrace. I’d been sleeping so well until now, perfectly comfy in my little cocoon.
I shut my eyes and exhale. This feels amazing. Like it used to, when Max and I would sneak into each other’s hotel rooms and fall asleep together. No, it doesn’t feel amazing, it’s perfect. A ripple of happiness goes through me, and I nestle closer to him. He squeezes my stomach with his hand and presses against me. We melt into each other.
Nothing about this is sexual. It’s more intimate than that.
Forget the sofa. I don’t want to be anywhere but where I am right now, in Max’s arms.
Chapter Eighteen
MAX
I haven’t even opened my eyes and I feel a desperate ache in my cock. Holy shit, I’m horny. More so than I’ve been in years. I’m as hard as a rock and I can’t figure out why. I haven’t had sex in a while, so maybe that’s it. Maybe I’ll roll over and take care of myself, entertain a little fantasy of Lily in those tight jeans she was wearing yesterday . . .
When I open my eyes, I realize that’s the issue. I’m pressed against Lily like she’s a life preserver, my face in her hair, my arm around her waist, my hips nestled against her curvy, soft ass, which is covered in sensual silk pajamas. How long have we been like this?
Last thing I knew, I crawled into bed after watching that animal program. Lily was asleep at the far side of the mattress, and I stayed on my side, on my back. Even though I was nervous about sharing a bed with her again, there was no way I was going to make a move. It would be unprofessional, even predatory, and I’m definitely neither of those things.
Horny, yes. Harassing, never.
But sometime in the night our bodies found each other like magnets, and my conscious mind wasn’t even aware. Or maybe Lily nestled against me.
The thought sends more blood into my dick. Does she want me? No, if she did, she would’ve done more than cuddle. At least, that’s what she used to do when we were together, start kissing my neck when I was asleep.
I want so badly to press my erection against her, but considering I’m not certain when or why we’re cuddling, that would probably be a terrible move. Inappropriate for so many reasons.
But her hair smells so good, like flowers. And it’s so silky. Her body’s warm, and memories of us having morning sex flash in my mind. When we were together, all it would take was a little thrust of my hips, and she’d make an adorable littlemmmsound then take my hand and shove it down her pajama bottoms.
No.
I’m not twenty-two anymore, and we’re not together. I’m supposed to be angry at her for breaking up with me. Plus she’s my boss, for god’s sake. Athirty-one-year-oldwoman. It was merely some kind of sleepwalking that led us to this position. Well, not walking exactly. Sleep spooning. Sleep cuddling.
I slide my arm away from her midsection and scoot back, not wanting to wake her. The clock radio says it’s quarter to six, and I need to get to the paddock by seven thirty for a massage and stretching session.
Lucas is going to be at the door pretty soon, too, and I can’t let him see that Lily’s here. I don’t want to deal with all the questions, not today.
As I’m sliding off the bed away from Lily, she flips over. Her eyes spy my hard on, which is tenting my sweatpants.
“What the . . .” She licks her lips, then shifts her eyes to my face. She squints. “I can’t see. Where are my glasses?”
“Oh, uh . . .” I pretend to look around, in hopes my dick softens.
“The nightstand.” She points, and I hand them to her.
She dons them and stares at me again. A flush creeps across her cheeks. “Oh dear.”
“Sorry. Uh, we ended up . . .” I can’t finish my sentence because I’m too embarrassed. Even though I’m fully clothed, I hold a pillow over my crotch.
“We ended up spooning. I’m not sure how,” she says, a touch of annoyance in her voice.
“I’m not either. My apologies. Is your headache gone?” I want to talk about anything but what we were just doing in bed. Or think about what we could be doing in bed if things weren’t so weird and awkward.
