I gathered my clothes and returned to the bedroom where I was temporarily rendered speechless. Nash was shirtless and barefoot, and his jeans were unbuttoned.
“Be out in five,” he said.
I nodded, still unable to form words.
The bedroom hadn’t escaped the cleaning frenzy, I noted. The fine layer of dust was gone, as were the prescription bottles. The curtains were drawn over the windows and he’d turned down the covers on the bed. Piper lay curled in a tiny ball in the exact center of the pillows.
The water kicked on in the bathroom and I briefly entertained the idea of tiptoeing out to his table and taking another snoop through his files. But I immediately discarded that. It would be a betrayal to use the opportunity for personal gain.
Instead, I got myself settled on the right side of the bed and scrolled through some work emails until the bathroom door opened again.
Sweet baby cheeses. His hair was damp, making it look darker than usual. His scars, one on the shoulder and one on the torso, were a puckered, pink reminder of what he’d been through. He was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. Dark-blue ones.
His thighs and calves were muscular. A fine layer of chest hair that tapered down into a V disappeared under the waistband.
Piper’s tail tapped out a happy beat on the bedspread. If I had a tail, it would have done the same.
“That’s my side,” Nash said.
I had to look away before I managed to form words. “You have a side of the bed?”
“Don’t you?”
“I sleep alone.”
He raised an eyebrow in question and rounded the foot of the bed to approach me.
I shrugged. “What?”
Nash gave my hip a nudge and signaled for me to slide over. “You don’t share your bed? Ever?” he asked.
“I’m no virgin,” I scoffed as I scooted past Piper to the opposite side of the mattress. “But I don’t usually do sleepovers. I like sleeping alone. And since I don’t have to share, I sleep in the middle and use all the pillows. Do you always sleep on the right?”
He shook his head. “I sleep on whatever side’s closest to the door.”
I flopped back against his pillows. “Ugh. You’re good guy hero down to the bone, aren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?” Those cool blue eyes searched mine as he pulled back the covers and got into bed.
“You sleep closest to the door so anyone who gets in has to get through you to get to Mrs. Hotshot.”
“There is no Mrs. Hotshot.”
“Yet. But seems like you’ve given her a lot of thought.”
The dip of the mattress under his weight did something funny to my heart. So did the weary look on his handsome face when he turned his head to look at me.
Piper snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his injured shoulder. I was not the swooning type. But if I was, I would have melted into a puddle on that mattress.
“Maybe I used to,” he said finally. “But right now, all I can think about is goin’ to sleep and waking up next to you.”
“Don’t be sweet. This is a platonic arrangement,” I reminded him.
“Then I won’t tell you how much I like seein’ you in my shirt in my bed.”
“Shut up and go to sleep, Nash.”
“Night, Angel.”
“Night, hotshot.”
Piper let out a whiny little yip.
I grinned and gave her a pat. “Good night to you too, Piper.”
Nash reached out and turned off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.
Somehow this was worse. Now instead of seeing him mostly naked and adorably snuggled up to a dog, my senses were dialed in to pick up on every breath, every shift of his body.
In the dark, he reached for me, his hand linking with mine on top of the covers.
Yep. There would be no sleep for me tonight.
I was jerked awake from an absolutely delicious sex dream by something. Something warm and hard.
My eyelids flew open so fast I worried I’d sprained them. I found a strong, male arm snaked around my waist, up my torso, and under my shirt where the attached strong, male hand gripped my bare breast.
Nash.
I was about to demand he unhand me when his body went rigid against mine. Like he was bracing to meet a threat. The hand on my breast tightened and I realized that I wasn’t mad. I was turned on.
The tension drained out of him just as suddenly as it had appeared and when his hips gave a little involuntary buck, I realized why I was feeling like Lady Horndog of the Northern Virginia Horndogs.
My back, every inch of it, was glued to Nash’s front. My heels were against his shins. The backs of my thighs rested flush against his quads. The useless T-shirt barrier was gathered around my waist, leaving my entire downtown exposed. I was also pretty sure he had his face buried in my hair.
Last but definitely not least, there was another warm, rigid, male appendage making itself known against my naked rear end. Wait. One quick Kegel check and I realized my situation was far more dangerous. Said appendage had tunneled its way between the apex of my thighs.
My lady parts were in full-blown throb. Nash’s extraordinary hard-on was nuzzled right up against me. As in his shaft had parted the lips of my sex and the tip rested just beneath my needy, needy clitoris. One of us was very, very wet.
What the hell had happened to his underwear? Had his penis just hulked its way to freedom?
I needed to move, but I couldn’t decide between wriggling away or rolling over, mounting him, and putting myself out of my misery.
No sex. No snuggling, I reminded myself. He’d been through a lot and damn it, I was turning over a new leaf. Besides, Nash was the one who’d broken our bargain. He’d crossed the center line of the mattress and… Oh shit.
I was on his side. I had my arms locked around the one against my chest. He couldn’t have dragged me across the bed. Manhandling would have woken me and I would have at least elbowed him in the face.
Oh God.
Had I flailed my way over here? Had I put my own ass on Nash’s crotch in my sleep?
This was very, very, very bad.
Okay. I needed a plan. I always had a plan and a backup plan, plus two or three contingencies.
I just needed to block out that insane desire for Nash to angle those hips up. Yep. Just block out the needy little throbs and focus on how to get out of this situation without humiliating myself.
Dear Lord.
It was an ocean of wetness down there. Which was worse, my hot neighbor thinking I’d wet the bed or my hot neighbor realizing I’d put us in a compromising position, gotten turned on, and then leaked sex juice everywhere?
Maybe I could blame it on the dog?
I was mulling over my options along with potential solutions on how to mop us both up without waking him when Nash gave a little groan behind me.
I was confident I could have dealt with the inherent sexiness of that raspy moan had it not also been accompanied by the gentlest shift of his hips. That tiny thrust set off an explosive chain reaction.
The crown of his cock slid forward and nudged that demanding bundle of nerves. At the same time, the hand clamped around my breast flexed, brushing pebbled nipple to rough palm.
And that was all it took.
I came against the hot head of his erection, muffling a moan with my hand. My hips bucked involuntarily as the orgasm fluttered through me, curling my toes and contracting every muscle in my body.