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“Stop wiggling.” He rested his head against the top of mine as I settled in against his shoulder, taking the command to stop moving as a request to stay put.
“It’s entirely possible you’ll make an edging convert of me by the end of the weekend.” I yawned big. I wanted to stay awake and enjoy this unexpected cuddle, but sleep was rapidly coming for me.
“We can’t—”
“Shush. I’m sleeping.” I exaggerated my sleepy sounds to stop him from telling me how we couldn’t repeat this. There would be time enough in the morning for regrets and lectures and for me to convince him that once was absolutely, positively not enough.
Chapter Sixteen
Harley
I was determined not to make things awkward the next morning. Ambrose said we could be adults. Compartmentalize. Uh-huh. There was no compartmentalizing an orgasm that powerful or a memory that hot. To think we hadn’t even truly touched or made out. When—if, damn it, if—we actually touched, kissed, tasted, we might set fire to the place. And it needed to be an if. Something to be resisted. Not a repeat to be anticipated and counted down to, no matter how much I wanted to beg for seconds.
To that end, as soon as I was awake, I didn’t let myself linger next to his warm body. He’d slept most of the night pressed up against me. I usually liked my space when I slept, but Ambrose was like a rare indulgence, an unexpected pleasure like the high-end hotel bedding. While he snoozed all sprawled out and hogged the pillows, I crept from the bed as quietly as possible.
The dog, however, was instantly awake the second I set foot out of bed.
“Come on. Let’s take you out,” I whispered, finding the leash as the early sunlight filtered through the blinds. I left Ambrose a note on hotel stationery on top of his phone. No need to worry him if he woke before we were back.
Hercules and I ventured out into the chilly northern wine country morning. A faint haze blanketed the open area behind the hotel. In the distance, the rows of vineyard plantings rolled over the hills. I’d grabbed a hoodie, and Hercules was in the same ridiculous Hawaiian shirt as the day before. Maybe I should have stopped to search his travel bag for something warmer. After a bit of play and taking care of doggie business, he shivered while looking expectantly up at me.
“You’re as bad as your owner,” I scolded as I tucked him inside my zip-up hoodie. On our way back to the room, we ventured into the lobby, where I got Ambrose a coffee from the station near the front desk. Extra sweet with nondairy creamer like I’d learned the day before. The breakfast buffet Ambrose had raved about was set up in the dining area and conveniently had to-go containers near it. Keeping the dog hidden, I quickly nabbed some food, then balanced the coffees on the containers before hurrying back to the room.
“Oh good. You returned,” Ambrose said by way of a sleepy greeting. He sat in the bed, covers pooling around his middle, revealing a bare chest. He still had faint bruises on his torso.
I inhaled sharply, more for the rosy nipples and faint silver-and-brown fuzz than the healing wounds.
“They don’t hurt anymore. Stitches came out the day before we left.” Ambrose waved a hand, and I sure wasn’t going to correct him that my surprise had more to do with lust than concern for his injuries.
“Good to know.” Looking away, I busied myself arranging the food and coffee on the small table near the window. “Did you really doubt I’d be back?”
“Not really. But where’s Herc—oh.” Ambrose made a delighted noise as the dog stuck his head out of my shirt. I gently set him on the bed next to Ambrose. “He let you carry him like that? And he did his business for you?”
“Of course. We’re old friends now.”
“He’s usually very picky.” A softness around Ambrose’s eyes indicated he might not be talking solely about the dog.
“Well, then, I’m glad he picked me.” I held his gaze, trying to convey thanks for the night before without actually mentioning it. “Come eat.”
“Sure.” He stood, leaving the covers behind and revealing a fully naked body.
“Oh, hello.” Blinking, I somehow managed to avoid groaning. Or gawking. There was so much to like about his body and so very much I had no business lusting over.
“Oops. I lost my shorts in the night.” He grinned at me, an adorable lack of modesty as he shook the covers.
“Funny how that happens.”
“Funny.” He retrieved his shorts from the bottom of the bed and slid them on. “And funny how well I slept. I can’t believe I slept through you guys leaving. Thanks for taking him out. And the food.”
