Page 42 of Press Play

Before I finish my sentence, he scoots over and lifts the comforter for me to join him. With no hesitation, I climb into his bed and curl up to his chest. Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me close, resting his chin on top of my head.

“You’re safe,” he tells me.

“I know,” I say into his chest. “Thank you.”

Silence blankets us. The calming lull and the rhythm of his breathing wash over my body. My eyes flutter closed, and I ball the back of his shirt in my fist.

Theo and I are great friends, but does that mean we should wade into the other side of the spectrum? I just hope that if we do and if it doesn’t work out, we don’t lose this.

Chapter Seventeen

Theo

I don’t always wakeup with morning wood, but it’s full-on right now, and it’s pressing into a soft ass. Without thinking, I grip the hips in front of me and pull them closer, grinding my length against the pliant body.

Who is this temptation in my bed?

She presses back, rubbing against me, and a pleased groan escapes my lips. Fucking hell, I need to be inside her. How can someone be so heavenly? And why does she feel so fucking good? None of the women I’ve been with have felt this divine.

She’s tilted at the perfect angle, and it’s enough to make me moan in pleasure. You’d think I was a teenager again, ready to come in his pants from a simple touch.

With a long inhale, I lean in and nibble on her earlobe. “You’re a dangerous thing, aren’t you?”

She lets out an airy moan, and a deep chuckle vibrates from my chest.

Squeezing her ass, I tell her, “I’m going to fuck you until all you can say is my name.”

She falters, coming to a complete stop.

I’m about to ask her if she’s okay until the faint smell of honeysuckle fills my senses.

Oh, fuck.

This can’t be happening. When did Wren get in my be—shit!

Of course. It all comes rushing back as the haze of sleep lifts.

She woke me up.

Why couldn’t I remember that two minutes earlier? This may be worse than the time Mom walked in on me jerking off. Scratch that. . . Nothing can be worse than that.

“Um,” I mumble while shifting away.

Wren sits up and nearly falls out of bed. “I gonna go,” she says, turning around to face me.

The color blooming on her cheeks matches mine. What in god’s name was I thinking!?

“Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit,” I choke out while she trips out of the room.

I wait for my door to close, and when it does, I grab my pillow and smother myself.

I can’t believe that just happened. Of all the people in the world, it had to be Wren. She’s probably mortified, packing her bags, and ready to leave. Or worse . . . she’s texting Brandy and Mia.

I don’t need a lesson in biology to understand why my body reacted the way it did. Wren is a gorgeous woman with sexy curves. Rationally, any guy would wake up with a hard-on next to her. Yet, the logical part of my brain isn’t louder than my baser instincts. Those are replaying the moment she pressed back and rubbed herself against my length.

I want nothing more than to burst into her room, bend her over, and fuck her until she can’t come anymore.

Shit!

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