Congratulations, me. It was a new low. Orgasming on a sleeping man’s cock. It was basically assault.
“Mmm. You okay, Angel?” Nash asked sleepily, his face buried in my hair, lips brushing my neck.
Well, hell. He was awake. There was no way I could just casually mop up his crotch now.
“Yep,” I squeaked. “Totally fine. Just a…charley horse.” In my vagina, I added silently.
It took a beat, but Nash tensed behind me again. Which caused that talented erection to poke me in the clit again.
The whimper clawed its way up my throat.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry,” Nash said, scrambling away from me under the covers. “I didn’t mean—”
“You know what? I think I’ll take a rain check on breakfast,” I said in a high-pitched voice that sounded like my mother’s I’m-pretending-I’m-not-upset-even-though-it’s-clear-I-am-upset tone. I rolled twice to get to the edge of the bed and tried to sit up.
But I didn’t make it that far.
Nash grabbed a fistful of T-shirt and pulled me back.
“Baby, are you okay?”
Mortified, I hooked my fingers over the edge of the mattress and hung on. “I’m totally fine. I just really need to go away now.”
“Angel, please look at me,” Nash begged. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you like that.”
He rolled me onto my back and pinned me with one hand. I saw the moment he realized his dick was out. His spectacular, girthy, ten out of ten dick.
“Jesus, what the fuck?” His other hand slipped down between us and yanked the waistband of his underwear up over his erection.
My cheeks were so hot I could have fried eggs on them if I knew how to.
“Oh my God. What are you sorry for?” I said, slapping my hands to my flaming cheeks.
“I promised I wouldn’t do…that,” he said. He was so angry, so horrified, I couldn’t let him take the blame.
His mouth was apologizing—unnecessarily—to me, but I was paying more attention to his cock and the fact that it seemed to be having a tough time getting interested in going soft.
I moved my hands from my cheeks to his. “Nash. I was the one who invaded your side. You were a sleep gentleman. I promise. I woke up a few minutes ago and I was the one who didn’t immediately remove my body from your body’s vicinity.”
His muscles lost some of their rigidity. “You came to me? In your sleep?”
I’d also come on him in his sleep.
“Where’s Piper?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
“In her dog bed with one of my socks,” he said without looking. “Back to you turning into a cuddler in my bed.”
“I didn’t turn into a cuddler! I was probably just trying to claim my usual spot in the middle and maybe we got tangled up or whatever. I don’t know. Let’s not overthink this. Or discuss it ever again. Just let me slink away in embarrassment and we’ll forget the whole thing ever happened.”
He shifted his weight over me, careful to keep his morning wood from touching me. Which if he’d known what had happened two minutes ago, he’d realize was a moot point.
He brushed my cheek lightly with his knuckles, forcing me to question my status as a non-swooner.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
God, early-morning Nash was cute. His hair was a mess and his stubble gave him just a hint of rakish charm to offset the good guy vibe. He had a pillow crease under his left eye. Not to mention that sleepy, earnest look on his gorgeous face.
“Besides being embarrassed at my dreamland defilement of you, I’m fine,” I assured him.
“You slept?” he pressed.
“I did. How about you?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“How do you feel?” I asked.
The curve of his lips was undeniably sexy. “Pretty fucking great.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Really. Thanks to you.” In a lightning-quick move, he dropped a kiss to my forehead, then hopped out of bed. “Omelets in ten,” he said, heading toward the bathroom. “Oh, and, Angel?”
I rolled to my elbow. “Yeah?”
“If you try to leave, I’ll personally deliver it. Loudly.”
FOURTEEN
SNACK CAKE HEISTS AND BAD APPLES
Nash
The thieves looked even more pitiful than their haul of crushed snack cakes and potato chips.
Three boys under the age of fourteen in varying painful stages of puberty sat on cold metal chairs outside the store manager’s office, looking like they were ready to puke. Beyond them, Nolan Graham hovered in the cookie aisle.
After that morning’s three-vehicle fender bender on the highway, the hardware store’s “stolen” string trimmer display that turned up in the storeroom, and Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler nearly getting scammed over the phone by someone claiming to be their grandson, I’d had a busy damn day already.
It was a good thing I’d had my first full night’s sleep in weeks.
Thanks to Lina.
I usually woke with a start to the sound that haunted my brain. And while I did remember it in my dreams, this morning I’d woken to Lina in my arms. She’d sought me out in her sleep. That fact—and my reaction to it—made me think that just maybe I was still alive, still worth trusting.
I owed her, the woman who was taking up every available brain cell that wasn’t occupied with work and breathing. Thanks to the talk and the sleep, I was feeling more hopeful than I had in a long time. She’d opened up just a crack, and what I’d seen beyond her sexy exterior had me wanting a longer, deeper look.
“Hate to call you in here for a couple of Little Debbie’s, Chief, but I gotta set an example,” Big Nicky said. Manager of Grover’s Groceries for nearly as long as I’d been alive, the man took his job seriously.
“I understand your predicament, Big Nicky. All I’m sayin’ is I think there’s a way around this that doesn’t involve pressing charges. We all do stupid things. Especially at that age.”
He huffed out a breath and glanced over my shoulder at the kids. “Hell, when I was that age, I was stealin’ my daddy’s cigarettes and cutting class to go fishing.”
“And you made it out of childhood without a record,” I pointed out.
He nodded thoughtfully. “My mama scared me straight. Guess not all of us are lucky enough to have parents who care enough to scare the shit out of us.”
I knew what that was like. Could still feel the tilting of my axis after Mom—the glue, the fun, the love of our family—left this world, and us, behind.
“Toby and Kyle, their parents are gonna ground them until it comes time for learner’s permits,” I predicted.
“But Lonnie…” Big Nicky let that hang there.
But Lonnie.
Knockemout wasn’t good at keeping secrets. That was how I knew Lonnie Potter was a tall, tough kid who had a mom that skipped out on him and his siblings two years ago. His dad worked third shift, which left little time for raising kids. I also knew that Lonnie had quietly joined the Drama Club at school. First, probably to have a place to go when no one was home, and then because he’d taken a liking to trying on other people’s lives. He was good at it, according to Waylay. But no family members ever showed in the audience on opening night.