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“Okay, where were we?” I say to distract myself from his unruly hair flopped over his closed eyes. The forbidden part of me wants to rake it back. Instead, I busy my hands by flipping to the correct page, thinking this is a terrible idea and wondering where my sane brain scampered off to.
“Eric was lamenting the fact his best friend, Ana, is going on a date with his brother, Troy,” he murmurs as he adjusts to his side, never opening his eyes, and lays with one hand under his pillow, the other palm down in the space between us.
Why have I never noticed his hands before? They’re big—long tan fingers with bony knuckles, neatly trimmed nails and little dark hairs sprinkled about appropriately. They’re not ugly, in fact they’re manly, with veins running along the tops and—my trajectory of spiraling thoughts stalls when he opens his eyes and his deep gaze kidnaps mine. Helpless, I offer myself up as a willing sacrifice until he flutters his lashes down and audibly swallows.
Licking his parched lips, he says, “That’s where we stopped, right? The unrequited love trope being introduced?”
I sense more to that sentence than what’s going on in our book and I force the uncertainty balled up in my throat down, drawing in a choppy breath.
“Yes.” Choosing to ignore the faint surging pulse in my veins, and the palpable tension between us, I read.
* * *
My body flinchesand I startle awake to the sensation of visiting hell—it’s so hot and the strong eucalyptus and menthol scent from Greyson’s medicine stings my nostrils. I peel open my sticky eyelids and immediately suck in a breath and hold it.
Grey’s dense, muscled arm wraps around my stomach, resting just under my shirt. His long fingers graze the side of my breast and a very toned, very heavy leg is thrown over my hip.
Holy moly. Umm, crap.
My cheeks flame and I’m sweating even more than usual with this bear of a man draped over me, clearly still deep in slumber, as his sleepy snores drift softly into my hair. I don’t dare move, but I can’t stay here either.
He shifts, digging his incredibly hard erection into the small of my back, and it takes everything in me not to gasp. I’m going to erupt into flames if he moves again like that—my hormones don’t care who’s attached to it.
Lifting my head slightly, I make out the time on the clock—one a.m.
That infinitesimal movement has Grey shifting and pulling me closer to his rock-hard chest, his heart steadily beating while mine is about to sprint out of my rib cage. His muscles flex against my back and there’s no way in hell he wields a dad bod. Squeezing my eyes shut, I force myself to take deep, even breaths and figure out how to get out of here without him waking up.
“Scar.” My name from his lips freezes me solid.
Uh oh, he’s awake.
“You smell amazing,” he murmurs, his hand now roving down my stomach in slow motion. “Like lavender and cotton—home.” My muscles clench and vibrate when his soft fingertips graze my belly.
There’s no way he’s aware, is he? All movements pause, and his breaths continue in measured time. Oh god, he’s talking in his sleep.
“Mmm… pretty girl, you feel so good too.” His rumbly voice rolls out low and craggy, sending unsolicited shivers down my spine as he guides his thigh down mine and his large hand drifts to the top of my leggings. His other hand plays with my hair. My friend is holding a pile of mush in his arms. I need to stop this—I don’t want to stop this.No, Scarlett, you have to.The hamster wheel of emotions is set too high, and I need to get off. In more ways than one, but this is not the time or place. Maybe in an alternate universe…
Oh, my god. How far am I going to let this go? This is bad, really bad.
“Your skin is so soft, smooth, so beautiful.”
Another long pause. Then, “I’ve never asked you, but do you like dirty talk?”
His hips move into my back, his erection more prominent, rubbing between my ass cheeks, and I swear at this angle he is too close to the apex of my thighs. My core throbs with an intense unmet need, and I squeeze my legs together tightly to stop this insane thirst from building even further. My brain short circuits.How can I get out of this? I can’t hear this.No chance to cover my ears because his mouth lowers, whispering into it, his breath catching with a slight groan I feel deep down.
“My sweet Scar.” He nips my earlobe, and his fingers dip inside the waistband of my leggings. I stiffen as he rasps out, “I bet you’re soaking wet for me, waiting for me to slip my aching cock deep inside you. Goddamn, you’re so sexy. Tell me this is what you want.”
His fingers brush back and forth, my skin erupting into goosebumps everywhere, so charged, so sensitive—I’m one touch away from splintering.
“Or would you rather sink your gorgeous flesh down on my ready dick and ride me to your orgasm?”
Sweet Jesus.
That persistent throb hums in my clit as his hand reaches further, now on the lacy fringe of my underwear. My thoughts, a garbled mess of firing neurons, switch from getting the hell out of here to what would it feel like to let him keep going?No, this is bad. He’s asleep. This isn’t right.
Just when I reset my brain and force my muscles to move, he whispers again.
“Daddy? No way.” His chuckle low and oh so raw. “Yeah, I’m laughing too because that kind of skives me out. But, if you wanted to, I’d let you. I’d let you do anything—say anything to me.”
