Shameless(35)

I glance at her, and she’s curled up, looking like she’s afraid whatever happened in her dream is going to bust through the front door.

This is probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, but I can’t stop myself. I have a crazy need to make sure she’s okay. And right now, I know she’s not.

“Hey.”

She turns to look at me, her eyes tinged with fear.

I hold out my arm. “Come here.”

There’s no hesitation. She just scoots closer and curls into me like she belongs pasted along my side. Her body’s still trembling, from the cold or her dream, I’m not sure.

“Want to talk about it?” I ask softly.

She shakes her head no, and I drop it. For now.

I reach over and spread the blanket over both of us. I’m sure I’ll regret this in the morning, but for now, at least I feel like I’m doing what I can to make her feel better.

Ignoring how good she feels against me, I close my eyes and try to sleep. Kat must be relaxing finally because she sighs and melts deeper against me. Her arm wraps around my waist, and her head slides to my chest. I glance down, and I realize how small she is. My arm tightens around her.

“Everything will be okay,” I whisper. “I got you.”





22





Katherine





I’m warm. So deliciously warm.

Usually, I wake up freezing, but right now, I’m in a cocoon of warmth that reminds me of a long summer afternoon. I could sleep like this into the new year.

Except for the pounding in my head. Whoa.

Then I remember the tequila.

Geesh. How many shots did I have? My mouth feels like I drank a pint of Pine Sol.

I squint through pasty eyes, hating the harsh light that filters through the blinds. Funny, I never realized how bright my bedroom gets in the morning.

But then something squeezes me, and I look down to see an arm draped over my hip.

One very tattooed and muscular arm.

The reason for the warmth squeezes me again, and I try not to squeak.

Then it comes rushing back to me. My nightmare. Curling up to Brady afterward. How he held me until I calmed down.

He’s such a sweetheart.

Wait.

We’re spooning.

My heart thrashes against my ribs. One of his arms is nestled under my head while the other anchors me firmly to his chest. A muscular thigh rests between my legs, and… and… his long, thick erection presses against my bottom.

I hold my breath. Do not arch your back. Do not arch your back.

I really want to arch my back.

My ex was not a snuggler. I never thought much about it since he was the first guy I had regular sleepovers with, so I guess I didn’t realize what I was missing because this feels heavenly.

Brady sighs and then, dear Lord, presses his length against my ass.

He’s thick and hard and feels so good.

Instinctively, I push back, and a deep, raspy groan sounds in my ear, making my neck and everything south of it tingle. Then the hand that’s wrapped around my waist slides up over my breast and squeezes.

Gah!

My eyes flutter closed, and I try to breathe.

A deep throb starts at my core, and it’s so very tempting to grind into his thigh to relieve the pressure.

I don’t know what this means, what we’re doing, but I’m filled with so much need, rational thought has escaped my brain.

He nuzzles against my neck while that hand rubs slowly across my nipple, back and forth, and warmth floods my panties. My skin is on fire, and I’m two seconds from turning around and launching myself at him when he mutters something I can’t quite make out.

I debate whether or not to say anything when he mumbles it again.

“Scale down the art.”

Wait. What?

Then he says something about an artichoke.

Um.

Yeah, he’s asleep.

Curse words I never say bounce around in my head. For the first time since he arrived, I admit how much I want him. I’ve never lusted over any guy, but there’s something about Brady that has me wanting to do all of the dirty things to him that I’ve only read about in books.

Disappointment washes over me at the realization that this comatose man will have no recollection of feeling me up once he wakes.

That hand squeezes my aching breast again, and I let out a gasp. Is it wrong that I’m enjoying this?

A lot.

Dang. If Brady is this good at foreplay when he’s sleeping, I can’t even imagine how good he is when he’s awake.

I start to wonder how far I’ll let this go. I usually pride myself on being an ethical person. I don’t cheat. I don’t steal. I don’t lie.

And I don’t usually fool around with guys I only met a week ago. Not even a week. Six days ago.

That’s not right, is it?

Closing my eyes, I count back to when he arrived. Internally, I shake my head. Here I am thinking I would totally drop my panties for a guy I haven’t even known a full week.

My mother’s voice rings loud and clear. Sinvergüenza. She’d say I was shameless, all tangled up, half naked with a man I barely know.

But that’s not totally true.

The way he held me yesterday. The sweet words he whispered to me, trying to calm me down after my nightmare. How he ran around in the frigid downpour to help me. My ex never would’ve done any of that even after all that time we were together.