Page 59 of Illicit

But whatever the hell that’s going on between us has officially moved from the sofa to the bedroom.

And in the middle of the night when common sense takes a hike, I’m not upset about it.

13

HANG MEAT

Teagan

Ididn’t know it was possible to be freezing and hot at the same time.

Rocco keeps his apartment the temperature of an icebox. Before he got home last night, I buried myself in blankets on his sofa.

But when he got home, and I realized he was hurt because of me, I was numb to everything but him.

It could have been worse. So much worse. And it would have been my fault.

The last thing I remember was feeling like an ice block when I rolled over in the middle of the night.

My toes might still be ice cubes, but the rest of me is not.

The only things in my vision are half the bed, Rocco’s messy bedroom with boxes littered everywhere, and his bandaged forearm draped over my body. Besides my toes, I’m toasty warm and more comfortable than I’ve ever been.

Rocco’s wide chest rises and falls against my back in a rhythm so even, there’s a beauty to it. His thick thigh is threaded between my legs pinning my bottom one to the bed. In fact, his hairy leg is sort of itchy.

That doesn’t seem like something that would feel good, but it does.

In fact, it all feels good.

Especially his cock.

I might not be the most experienced twenty-two-year-old on the planet, but I’m not naïve or innocent.

It’s hard as a rock and pressed firmly into the small of my back.

Sure, he’s asleep. And, yes, I’ve read that most men wake up like this.

It could have nothing to do with me.

But as I lie here in his arms, I’m going to pretend it has everything to do with me. I’m good at daydreaming. Before our first encounter, it’s all I did. And no matter how hard I tried to shake the dream of Rocco Monroe after our moment at the now-enshrined spot on the wall, nothing ever compared.

And now that I’ve made my way back here, my worst fears have come true.

No one will ever compare to this.

To him.

That fact is totally and utterly depressing.

Like more depressing than moving to New York by myself. I don’t care how amazing the job opportunity is.

The desire to roll in his arms to see what would happen is strong. Been there, done that. The last thing my psyche can take at the moment is Rocco pushing me away.

Again.

But my dream reality is about to come to an end. His rhythmic breathing is cut off by a quick intake of air. Just when I think he’s going to wake up in shock and push me off the bed from the position we put ourselves in during the night, he buries his face in the back of my head, and his strong arm pulls me into his chest tighter.

Delicious.

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