Page 39 of Bite Your Tongue

Once I had a taste of her, it was over. But if she needs a friend, I’ll be the best fucking friend Saylor’s ever seen.

But I’m also going to make her fall in love with me. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Finally, she smiles. “Okay, fine. As long as you don’t start saying that sappy shit you said at the airport, you can help me cross off things on my list.” She points her finger at me. “But if you start any funny business, forget about it.”

I hold my hands up defensively. “Me? Funny business? Wouldn’t dream of it, babe.”

“Good. I don’t want to cut your dick off, but I would,” she says seriously before pointing toward the small living room. “If we’re real friends, we’ll take this food to the couch and watch trashy Netflix shows.”

“What the fuck are we waiting for then?” I say, standing and taking some plates in my hands. “Get your ass on the couch.”

I like being her friend, but I want more. And what she doesn’t know is, we should be friends with benefits, but it’s not the right time for me to pitch her that idea. Not yet.

I’m awakened by arms sliding around me, and I attempt to pry my eyes open, but before I have time to panic, Ryder’s smooth, thick Southern accent calms me.

“Just taking you to bed. I know you’ve got to be at work early. Need a good night’s rest.”

I nuzzle his chest, feeling so cozy against him. His scent clouds my brain, making me woozy, and for a moment, I consider kissing him. I shouldn’t though.

I really, really shouldn’t.

He walks me into my bedroom, and then he reaches forward, pulling my blankets down before setting me on the mattress and covering me up.

“Good night, Saylor,” he whispers into the darkness, taking a step back.

I’m barely awake, but he traveled all this way, and he doesn’t deserve to sleep on my tiny couch.

“Stay,” I utter, flipping onto my side. “We can put a pillow between us. It’ll be fine.”

My eyes crack open a little further, and I’m met with an amused smirk. The same smirk he wears when he’s trying to get under my skin. I grab one of my spare pillows and slap it in the middle of the bed. Lord knows if it wasn’t there, we’d find ourselves in a position where his dick was in my vagina. Again.

“Stop trying to get me into your bed, Sawyer. Geesh, I thought we’d agreed to be just friends,” he drawls playfully, but wastes absolutely no time tugging his shirt off.

“On second thought, maybe you should sleep outside,” I grumble. “You know, that way, I won’t try to take advantage of you or anything.”

As his beautiful, rock-hard abdomen glistens in the moonlight, I gulp down a swallow because, well, I didn’t think this through. When he peels his jeans off, leaving him in his briefs, my thighs slam together under the comforter, and I want to punch myself in the face for even suggesting this.

I’ve had some terrible ideas, but this one might take the cake.

He ignores me, walking around to the other side of the bed before climbing in. As it shifts from his weight, he chuckles darkly. “Nah, babe, no takebacks. I’m sleepin’ in here with you.” Reaching his arm over the pillow, he pats my side. “Night, night, Saylor. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Don’t be annoying,” I grumble, even though my skin prickles because he’s in my bed—so extremely close to me.

Suddenly, I’m wide awake. It doesn’t matter that I worked all day and have to do the same thing tomorrow because with Ryder this close to me, all I want to do is climb over the pillow, kiss down his chest, and remind him how good it felt last time I sucked his dick.

But I’m here, in Charleston. I’m being an independent woman, and the last thing I need is someone like Ryder clouding my judgment, making me miss home more than I already do. So, I squeeze my eyes shut, and I pretend I’m sleeping.

I wake up with debatably the hardest morning wood in the history of ever. It’s like my cock knew that Saylor was close by while I slept and decided it should be ready to go, just in case she wanted to use it.

Somehow, in the night, the pillow got moved, and she’s lying in the middle of the bed on her stomach. My arm is draped over her, and my fingertips are touching her ass cheek.

It’s still dark out, and I’m sure her alarm is going to go off at any minute now because she has to be at the hospital at six. My body is conditioned to wake up this early for training and practice, so sleeping in isn’t really an option. Though my dick made matters worse by demanding all the blood run to it.

She snores softly, a few strands of hair in front of her face moving every so often from her breath. Her hair is wavy from her going to bed with it damp, and I love it more than when she straightens it. I admire her face—or what I can see of it. Even though her lashes have no makeup on them, they are thick and dark, and I somehow missed the tiny mole above the left side of her lips.

She looks like one of those Cover Girl models, only she doesn’t even need what they sell.

Her alarm starts to sound, and before I can reach for it, her arm is stretched, and she’s trying to grab her phone.

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