Page 90 of Wild Card

“You tired?”

She moves to stand in front of me, shaking her head. “Not really.”

My gaze travels down her body. She didn’t change out of her bathing suit, but when the weather cooled, she disappeared into my room and came out wearing one of my sweatshirts that swallows her frame.

A sense of possession rears inside and I tug her to me. “Like you in my clothes.”

“It’s warm and comfy, just like you.”

“I’m warm and comfortable?”

“Yes, in my mid-sleep, dazed state in the hospital, I thought I was curled up snuggly in bed. But it was you.”

“Not sure I’ve ever been referred to as snuggly.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, hurt and regret flickering in her expression. The carefree happiness is dying fast.

In a flash, she’s in my arms and I’m on the move. When we get to my room, I put a knee on the bed, twist, and lay with her on top of me. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” Her question is guarded and I fucking hate it.

“Never had this before, baby. This bed has never even had a woman sleep in it unless you count the times my parents stayed and I moved to the couch. Don’t know what makes me snuggly. But if you show me, swear to God, you’ll have it every night we’re together.”

The hurt from earlier disappears and she presses up to kiss me lightly. “I don’t know how you do that, but I really, really like it.”

She settles on her side, placing my arms around her waist. Her back arches, putting her ass directly on my cock.

My dick strains against my swim shorts as she shifts repeatedly, getting comfortable. “Babe, quit moving.”

“Why?”

I press my hips into her. “Because you’re fucking torturing me.”

She does one more shift, this time to her back where she’s peering up at me. Her green eyes are luminous and cheeks are flushed. “I don’t want to torture you. I want to go back to this morning where you were kissing me. Before my emotions and fears took over. I want you to tell me it’s natural because it’s meant to be again.”

My heart races knowing where she’s going with this. “We don’t have to rush. We have time.”

She trails her nails along the scruff on my jawline and throat. “My experience is limited and track record with men sucks.”

My chest tightens at the mention of other men. Possessiveness surges.

“Will—”

“Let me finish. You have peach-infused vodka.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t strike me as a man who drinks specialty flavored alcohol.”

“I don’t.”

“When Ace mentioned steaks for dinner, you disappeared. Where did you go?”

“I called Chase to make sure it was safe.”

“I felt you watching me today.”

“My friends can be a lot; I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”

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