And that was that.
Or so I thought.
My subconscious had other ideas, though, that traitorous bitch.
Because when I woke up again, not only had I scaled the rest of the remaining pillow wall, oh no, I had rolled right on top of Fenway, leg cocked up on his hip, head snuggled in under his neck.
As a rule, I did not spend the night with men.
I always left first, before they could ask me to, before they could brush me off.
I’d heard that old adage about breaking up with them before they broke up with you when I was twelve. I promptly took it to heart, made it a staple practice in my life. So while I didn’t do relationships, when I’d do flings, I was always the one to walk away first; I was always the one with the power.
That said, there was no way I could have known that I was a sleep snuggler.
Or how good it would feel to have a strong chest under your cheek, rising and falling gently, soothingly. I couldn’t have known how nice it would be to have one arm anchored across my lower back, the other resting on my shoulder.
I felt oddly… smaller. More delicate. And protected.
What the hell was that about?”
“I know you’re awake,” Fenway’s voice called, sounding wide awake.
“You can let me go now,” I told him, even if a large part of me was screaming that it wanted to stay just like that, that it liked small and delicate and protected.
But I wasn’t small.
I damn sure wasn’t delicate.
And I never needed someone else to protect me.
“I don’t want to.”
“I didn’t ask you what you wanted.”
“You rolled onto me,” he told me. “Climbed me like a cat, more like,” he told me, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I am a bed hog. You were in my space.”
“Hm. Maybe. Explain the soft sighs then.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, planting one arm so I could press up a bit and look down at him.
His lips curved up, cocky, devilish.
Yeah, that smile of his was problematic.
It was entirely too appealing.
Damn him.
“You sleep quiet as a mouse. Even when you toss and turn. Not a peep. Until you scaled the wall, climbed up on me, wiggled around to find the right spot, then let out a couple of soft, sweet little contented sighs.”
“I did not.”
“How do you know? You were unconscious, darling,” he reminded me, reaching up to tuck my hair that had fallen forward behind my ear. “You don’t need to feel insecure. As I said, it was sweet.”
“I’m not insecure,” I insisted, even if a little part of me amended that I never used to be insecure. “And no one would ever call me sweet,” I added.
“I will. I did. You’re sweeter under all that cold and hard. You know what else?”
“No,” I said, feeling a heaviness in my chest at the look in his eye, like my body knew what he was going to say before his lips formed the words.
Fenway’s hand slid up my spine, fingers spreading out at the back of my neck, a firm, yet gentle pressure. “I bet you taste just as sweet,” he told me, hand putting more pressure on my neck, pulling me down.
If asked, I wouldn’t be able to truthfully say the movement was all him. Because as much as I would never want to admit it, he only pulled me down to ninety-percent. He wanted me to close the last gap.
I didn’t mean to.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to.
It was too soon for that.
But I did it.
I sealed my lips over his.
Expecting a sizzle.
There was evidence enough of a small bit of attraction that would lead to a sizzle, even if that wasn’t great for the job as a whole.
But it wasn’t a sizzle.
It was a spark, a flame, a raging wildfire, ravaging through my system, igniting me from the edges of my hair down to the soles of my feet.
A low, rumbling growl escaped Fenway, vibrating into my body, making my leg shift, knee planting on the other side of him, straddling him. And when my hips sank back down, I could feel his hardness pressing against me, demanding, promising an end to the clawing desire I felt building in my core.
Fenway’s teeth snagged my lower lip, dragging a ragged moan from my lips as my hips slid, ground down, felt his cock press against me, turning that wildfire into a towering inferno.
Fenway’s hands roamed, gliding over my shoulders, my hips, finally sinking into my ass, dragging me against him once again.
A tremble worked through me, making Fenway fold upward, angling me backward, his hand moving between our bodies, hungry hands scorching a path over my shoulder, down my side, teasing over my ribs, then moving back upward, closing over my breast, tightening.