Page 39 of Last Light

Everything.

And I like it.

The shape of him behind me makes arousal clench hard between my legs.

He’s holding me against him with one arm. His face is just behind my head. His breath fans over the back of my neck and my ear. I can smell him. Feel him.

My body keeps responding.

He shifts in his sleep, making a little thrust against my ass.

I have to bite back a moan of pleasure at the sensation.

I need to get away from him. I can’t let myself feel this way. Not when he’s asleep. Very gently I try to move the arm that’s holding me against him.

He mumbles and grips me tighter, thrusting against my bottom again.

My cheeks burn, and my breathing is uneven. I’m so turned on now that it’s a painful, throbbing ache between my legs.

I thought he was supposed to be a light sleeper. Why doesn’t he wake up and realize what he’s doing?

I know he doesn’t mean it. It’s an involuntary physical reaction in his sleep.

But still. He’s aroused, and he’s pressed up against me. My body doesn’t realize the difference.

I try to remove his arm again so I can roll off the bed, but he won’t let me. He mumbles some more, and even without words, it sounds like he’s gruffly objecting to my attempts to get away.

I wriggle a bit, and he rocks his hips against me with a low moan.

Oh God. It feels so good.

And it’s so incredibly wrong.

I try to move his arm again, not quite as gently, and his whole body tenses up. I feel the difference immediately, and I have sense enough to close my eyes and relax my body.

Travis is going to be mortified, waking up to discover what he’s doing.

It will be worse if he knows I’m awake too.

He grows still, holding the position. I breathe slow and deep and keep my eyes closed.

Then his arm slowly withdraws from around my waist. He rolls away from me with a muffled groan. I don’t like how cold and empty my back and ass feel without him pressing against them, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

I feel the weight on the mattress shifting and another soft groan from Travis.

I’m dying to know what his face looks like. What he’s doing. But I don’t dare to turn over and look.

I hear nothing for a minute. Then I hear his footsteps on the floor. Then the sound of a door.

He can’t be leaving the room. It’s still barricaded by the chest of drawers he pulled in front of it. But that was definitely the sound of a door.

The bathroom. He must have gone into the bathroom.

He can’t use it. The plumbing doesn’t work.

I have no idea what he’s doing in there.

I stay completely still and listen.

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