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“Me. Sleeping here. In your, um, bedroom.” She’s biting her lip and I want to suck it into my mouth.
“Frankly? No.” My voice is gravelly with need. I’m exhausted, and I’ve been fighting my attraction to her for weeks.
“I should go.”
“Thompson. If you set one foot out that door, I will fire you. You’re here. I’m tired. You’re tired. Now go to sleep.” I toss the comforter unceremoniously onto the couch in the sitting area and stalk from the room.
I press my hands over my eyes in the bathroom. Don’t do anything stupid. She’s my employee, for fuck’s sake. She shouldn’t be going to bars with me, or singing with me, or kissing me. Fuck. I methodically strip off my clothes, and my cock jerks. I grit my teeth. Clearly my body has the wrong idea.
I brush my teeth with more force than is strictly necessary, and when I shove open the bathroom door, Callie is there.
“What?” I say flatly.
“Can I borrow something to sleep in? I don’t want to sleep in my work clothes. Or just my underwear.” Her face is pink.
“Probably a good idea,” I mutter. I toss her an oversized workout shirt from the dresser, and she disappears into the sitting room.
Twenty minutes later, I’m lying on my back in my massive bed, wide awake despite the half gallon of alcohol I consumed. It’s her. The pea under my mattress. The reason I don’t get anything done. I can hear her breathing from the other room. The door is just five feet away. Is she awake? Is that shirt riding up over her ass? Fuck, I feel like a pervert. She shifts restlessly on the couch and before I can think better of it, I’m up and at her door.
“Do you need anything?” I ask.
“Sorry. Am I bothering you? I can’t sleep.” She sits up. The silky material of the shirt clings to her breasts, highlighting her peaked nipples. My mouth waters. Literally fucking waters. Pathetic.
“Why can’t you sleep?” My voice comes out harsher than I intend.
“Well, it’s a couch. I’m trying.” She sounds irritated. Finally. A comfortable place to be with her.
“Sleep on the bed.”
“But you’re on the bed.”
“And I’m not getting any sleep with you tossing and turning all night.”
She stands and the shirt barely hits her mid-thigh. Ah, fuck. What was I thinking?
“Where will you sleep?”
“On the other side. It’s a California king. Just get in the bed, Thompson. I’m not going to ravish you. Fucking hell.” I mutter curses and settle back onto my side before she slips under the covers. I freeze. The temperature is instantly ten degrees warmer. Her steady breaths fill the space. This is worse. Why would I suggest this?
“Jonah?” she whispers.
“What?” I bark.
“Thank you. For everything.” She finally, blessedly, falls asleep.
* * *
I wake to a warm arm thrown over my stomach, a woman’s cheek cradled against my chest. What the hell? And then, through my sleep-addled brain, Callie. I freeze. She’s asleep, if the evenness of her breathing is anything to go by. Asleep and half-draped over me. Fuck. And my arm is curled under her and around her shoulders like she’s mine. The rest of my body seems to agree. She shifts slightly and my cock hardens further. Shit. Leave, you fool. But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay, and show her pleasure, explore that connection I felt when we kissed. I hover on the edge of indecision, until she murmurs, “Jonah,” in her sleep, and I’m done for.
36
Callie
I’m having the best dream. I never have dreams like this, and I never want it to end. I can’t really see Jonah’s face, but I know the warm weight pushing me into the mattress is him. His hands are everywhere, his hot breath is on my neck, and I love it.
“Callie,” I hear. Lips on my neck, a hand on my jaw. I arch to meet dream Jonah. His lips are just as soft as they were when he kissed me, and oh, right there.
“Jonah.” His name is a gasp of air.
