I stare back at him as his eyes drop to my lips and back up again. The subtle movement unleashes a bubbling energy, which dances its way through my body.
I turn away. “I’m just going to get changed.”
I head into the bathroom and close the door, falling back against it and letting out a deep breath. Tonight has been crazy. In fact, this entire day has been. First, we drove for hours to get here, a beautiful hotel in its own private grounds, nothing in walking distance at all. Then I spent a day in the hotel spa while Reed worked. I met Kristen and some of the other partners, who all seemed down to earth. Except Bea, the bitch. Thank God we’ve managed to avoid her and Graham so far. I saw them across the ballroom tonight, right before the president cornered me, but I never saw them again after that.
I slip out of my dress and underwear and change into my white cotton shorts and top pajama set. I should have thought this through properly. I’ve packed what is probably the smallest nightwear set I own. But my big, comfy ones are still in the laundry basket after having my period a week ago. When I head out into the bedroom, there’s a soft, flickering glow from the TV. Reed’s laid out on the sofa, watching the news with his arms folded behind his head. He’s changed into dark blue pajama pants, and nothing else. The light illuminates his skin, then drops away leaving shadows as the image on the screen changes. The contrast of the alternating patterns draws my attention to each line, dip, ripple, and valley on his broad, muscular body. The butterflies that have moved into my stomach over recent days stir up once again.
“Bathroom’s free,” I call as I walk over to the bed and climb in, pulling the cool duvet up over me as I lie down and sink into the pillows with a sigh.
I must fall asleep as the next thing I know, I’m shivering and it’s dark. I glance at the bedside clock. 1 AM. I’ve been asleep less than two hours. I turn over as my eyes start to adjust. There’s a long, dark outline in the bed next to me, slow, steady breathing coming from it.
Reed.
I gather the sheets up around my neck and hunch into a fetal position. How can he be sleeping so soundly? It’s positively Baltic in here. Maybe the air conditioning is broken and stuck at ‘freeze your tits off’ level, because I swear they’re about to do just that. I mutter and tuck my chin underneath the duvet, attempting to blow hot air into it to create a makeshift sleeping bag of heat. It does absolutely nothing, and so I fidget about some more, huffing and puffing. How can such an opulent hotel have such an antiquated, shitty heating system?
I glance at Reed again. He’s sprawled out on his back, one arm flung behind his head, the other on his uncovered chest where he must have thrown the duvet back. He’s always like a heater, walking around our apartment in no shirt. I don’t get it. He’s probably part Yeti. Minus the body hair.
I’m glaring at him, thinking about the unfairness of it all. Women get periods, childbirth, freezing tits. What do men get? A toasty self-regulating furnace and maybe some nose or ear hair that’s prone to overgrowth. Although Reed lucked out there. The bastard looks like a walking billboard for sexy pajama pants that hang low on hips.
Hips with that V shape you see on male underwear models.
I grumble and roll back over so my back is to him.
“Come here, Harley.”
My ears prick up, and I incline my head in his direction. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was before you started wriggling about and making the bed shake.” His voice is deep and a little gruff from where he’s just woken up.
I shuffle about a bit more, testing his theory. The bed base moves the tiniest amount, barely anything at all.
“No way did that wake you up,” I huff as I tuck the duvet around my neck again.
“Fine. It was the way you were puffing and panting and grumbling like a puppy that hasn’t realized its tail is attached to its own butt.”
“Shut up.” I consider throwing my pillow at him, but that would require moving and letting precious heat escape.
He chuckles, his voice still laden with an extra depth from sleep.
It sounds so sexy.
“Come here,” he repeats.
He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he reaches both arms underneath the bedding and drags me across the mattress, pulling my back straight to his front and wrapping his arms around me.
“Now quit fucking complaining and I’ll warm you up.”
I stiffen in his arms, but as the solid heat from his body begins to transfer to mine, I melt, relaxing back into him and letting out a contented sigh.
This is so much better.
“You might as well be naked wearing this.” He brushes his fingers over my ribs and the sudden jump of my stomach leaves me expecting his fingerprints to be etched into my skin if I were to lift the fabric away. “Why didn’t you pack your warm pajamas, the ones with the deformed cats on?”
He means my period pajamas.
“They’re caticorns.”
“They’re fucking hideous is what they are, but at least you’d be warmer.”