Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
So she had to take care of me. Again.
That doesn’t explain why we’re suddenly cuddle buddies. So most likely, we rolled toward each other. I’m a side sleeper and I’m lying like I always do, with one arm wedged under my pillow. My other arm’s caught somewhere between a blanket and a quilt. She’s almost completely hidden under the covers, with the top of her head tucked under my chin. Something’s nestled against my stomach—I’m guessing her hands. Her soft, slow breaths warm my neck.
And the brain fog must not be completely gone, because I’ve got a powerful urge to wrap her in my arms and haul her in tight. It takes everything I’ve got to fight it. This is Abbie Walker. I should be shoving her back onto her own side of the bed.
Though, she is on her side. We’re both in the middle, but each on our own sides. Our enemy lines are clearly marked, however. So there should be a gap. Some kind of No Man’s Land.
Now that I’m awake, I ought to move. She wouldn’t like being so close to me. I shouldn’t like it.
But she took care of me. That’s softened me a bit. I figured compassion was an alien concept to all the Walker women.
I guess I’m wrong about that. Maybe I’m also wrong about some other shit.
So I’ll try harder not to antagonize her. If she lets me. She’s prickly as hell. And there’s a strange ache in my chest, knowing she hates me. That ache wasn’t there before.
Another, lower ache wasn’t there before, either. Morning wood, I tell myself.
It’s not. I didn’t wake up hard. My cock’s only rising because I can feel her against me. Because I can smell the sweet scent of her hair. Holding my breath only works for a minute. This is stupid. I should just move away from her. Should just get out of this bed.
Nothing on this earth could make me.
And that’s before Abbie nuzzles her face into my throat. Before her arm curls around my waist. Before her thigh slides over my hip.
A few realizations hit me all at once. First, I’m stark naked. Second, though she’s wearing a flannel top, her legs are covered in nothing but bare, smooth skin. Third, the way she’s pressed closer means the only barrier between my cock and her pussy is her underwear, and I can feel how soft and hot she is through that thin layer of fabric.
So soft and hot.
Fuck. I know what’ll happen if she wakes up now. She’ll think I was letting her do this on purpose to humiliate her. Not because the heat from her cunt is frying my brain. I’ve got to extricate myself from this. Even though I don’t want to. I need to ease my way out of this bed without waking her up.
My every good intention is blasted apart when her hips begin to move. Rubbing that hot cunt up and down my shaft. I stifle a groan behind clenched teeth. I need to stop this. But the full force of my will is focused on not rolling Abbie onto her back and sinking balls deep.
A few more rubs, and the slight friction of cotton against my bare cock all but disappears. She’s wet. Soaked-through-her-panties wet. Christ. I’m not going to come like this. Not. But I’m a fucking liar, I can already feel it, the deepening ache, the liquid blaze. I fight the sensation but can’t muffle the tortured groan that pushes its way from my chest.
“Whuh?” It’s a sleepy enquiry against my neck. Then she sucks in a horrified breath. “Ohmygod.”
“Abb—”
Her head jerks up, whacks me under my chin. Stars explode behind my eyes. She pulls away from me so fast that she bounces against the wall on her side of the bed. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t— Fuck fuck fuck!”
She bounces back and over me. Hot Biscuit Slim yowls and streaks off the bed. Abbie nearly trips over him then rights herself again. By the time I sit up, she’s across the cabin.
The bathroom door slams.
Fuck.
I stare into the dark until I feel the bite of cold air on my overheated skin. The blankets were thrown halfway to the foot of the bed during Abbie’s flight. I could drag them up over me again, go back to sleep and forget all this.
I won’t ever.
Better to get up and face her. Clothes are an issue, though. Mine are hanging up in the bathroom—and likely still wet. I can’t get in there now, anyway.
But my brain’s clearer than it was yesterday, so it occurs to me that Harris always has extra gear and clothing stored. We’re almost the same size.
There’s no fucking way I could have eased out of bed earlier like I’d planned. My leg’s not as stiff but hurts so goddamn much that I still lurch and huff just to stand up. At least the freezing air takes care of my erection.