I was a possessive bastard even unconscious. I wanted to keep Scarlett exactly where she was.
After our scene in the guest room, Scarlett fled, using August as an excuse. He'd been curled up on the couch right where we'd left him, watching his movie, content and oblivious. Scarlett tucked him into his temporary bed and, saying she was tired, had disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.
Considering how long she was in there, she should have looked less chilly when she emerged in her tank and boxers. She'd tucked herself into the other side of the bed, practically clutching the edge of the mattress, and pretended to go to sleep.
I pulled up a book on my iPad and settled in, prepared to be amused at her attempt to sleep so early. It was August's bedtime, not hers. After a flip to her other side then back again, she'd hurtled herself from the bed, grabbed a blanket from the closet, and rolled it into a long tube. Placing the makeshift bolster between us, Scarlett avoided my eyes and tucked herself back under the covers.
I resisted the urge to laugh. Really. It was almost impossible. "Am I that irresistible?"
No answer from Scarlett. Not a verbal one. A single hand rose from the blankets, one elegant finger extended. The middle one.
I choked back a burst of laughter. "Sleep tight."
The hand withdrew and, eventually, Scarlett's breath evened out. I waited until I was sure she was out before I snagged the bolster and tossed it on the floor. Not long after, I joined her in sleep.
I woke with her soft body entwined with mine.
I felt it the second she woke. Face turning to the side, her cheek on my shoulder, her lips brushed my neck. "Did you sleep okay?" I asked, pitching my voice low so I didn't wake August. I could just see him, splayed on his stomach, hair falling over his eyes, and one foot hanging off the couch. Still out cold.
"Mhmm," Scarlett murmured into my skin. Her hand shifted, coming to rest on the shoulder opposite her head, fingers curling in, then relaxing to stroke.
Fingertips swirled, feather-light. Did she realize she was touching me? Just my shoulder, but it was enough to send shivers all the way to my toes. Her sleepy acceptance made me bold. "Do I get a good morning kiss?"
The fingers stopped moving. Everything about her stopped moving. Just when I thought I'd blown it, Scarlett lifted up on her elbow and looked at me across the inches that separated us. Her mouth opened to speak. Before a sound escaped, I said, "He's still asleep."
"Not for long," she breathed just before her mouth closed over mine.
My arms tightened, holding her still as my lips met hers. She was warm, every muscle relaxed, her mouth moving against mine with leisurely appreciation as if we had all the time in the world. It felt like we did. Like we could spend every second of that time just like this. Kissing. Touching.
Don't get me wrong. I wanted to fuck her. More every time we kissed. Wanted to strip off her clothes and see her naked, to taste and touch without any thought to an interruption. I would, I promised myself. It was going to happen. I was only waiting for the right opportunity. And the open door between us and Scarlett's sleeping son meant this was definitely not the right opportunity.
But I had this—Scarlett kissing me, half straddling me, her smooth thigh shifting against my hard cock, my boxers doing little to dull the sparks of pleasure every time she moved. My brain—and my cock—almost exploded when she slid to the side and her hand drifted down, fingers closing around my length, squeezing with a firm grip that had my hips jerking with the need to thrust, to bury myself in her slick heat.
The hungry growl in the back of her throat was almost enough to push me over the edge. Her grip tightened, relaxed, tightened until my hips pumped and her throat rumbled again. Sleepy and greedy. I sucked in a ragged breath, desperate to get my head together. I hadn't been this close to blowing in my shorts since I hit puberty and the slightest breeze had my dick ready to come.
It wasn't her body. Not that alone. Or her passion, as hot as that was. It was everything. It was Scarlett. So guarded, so secretive. She was a fortress barred against me—until we touched. Like turning a lock, everything flipped when I got my hands on her.
I needed more. So did she. We weren't going to get it.
Somehow, I caught the faint thump of little feet on the floor. The even quieter thud of the pillow followed as August made his way from the couch to the bedroom door. I flipped us, rolling to dislodge Scarlett's grip on my cock, though the loss of her hand made me want to cry.