Page 34 of Hired By the Enemy
“This way, I can elbow you when you snore.”
I’m not going to ask again. Instead, I approach the bed and climb in, putting as much distance between Matthew and me as possible. We both lie rigidly on our backs, staring at the ceiling like a couple from a 1950s sitcom.
“For the record, I don’t snore,” I say into the silence.
Matthew turns onto his side to face away from me.
“I’ll get proof otherwise someday,” he says.
Chapter Eight
Matthew
I wake up the next morning, and the first thing I’m aware of is the warm body pressed against me. It appears Liam and I have gravitated to each other during the night.
It’s safe to say that out of everyone I could have imagined waking up next to naked, Liam would be at the bottom of the list.
I pull away and roll over to look at him.
He’s still asleep, and for all his protests that he doesn’t snore, he’s currently making a cute snuffling sound. I almost reach for my phone to record it, but I don’t want to risk disturbing him.
Although it’s not like he needs his beauty sleep.
I’ve never allowed myself to admire Liam Jamieson, but I do now. He really is the perfect specimen of masculinity. His hair is ruffled from sleep, one lock hanging over his forehead.
One of my fingers twitches to push the stray hair away so I can see his whole face, unguarded and relaxed. I want to skim my fingers across the smooth skin of his cheekbones, down to the rougher texture of the stubble of his jaw.
Watching Liam sleep, I wonder about the ethics of sleeping with someone I’m paying to be here.
But as soon as the thought is there, I dismiss it. Liam and I had a preexisting relationship before I became a client of Elite. No contract could ever put our relationship back into professional mode, given the history between us.
I continue to study the immaculate planes of his face. The only thing that mars his perfection is a small scar above his left eyebrow. Shit. I’m pretty sure I’m actually responsible for that. I’d put a whoopee cushion on his seat in sixth grade, and when he sat, he got such a surprise he fell off his chair, hitting the edge of his desk on the way down, splitting open his eyebrow. Ms. Beauton hadn’t been impressed.
I don’t know how I feel about the knowledge that the only thing marring Liam’s perfection is a scar I caused.
Luckily, Liam begins to stir, which snaps me out of stalker mode.
Liam blinks sleepily at me, and a line creases his forehead like he’s wondering how the hell he’s ended up here in my bed. Anxiety spikes in me. Is he regretting the tentative peace deal we’ve brokered?
Then his face clears of all confusion. “You feel like working off some more of that animosity?” he asks in a raspy voice.
Happiness, with a side helping of horniness, shoots through me.
“I think we might need a preventive workout to survive the day together,” I reply.
An anticipatory smile slides onto his face, and I use it as my invitation to reach out and touch his incredible chest, sliding my hands down the ripples of his abs, down to that tantalizing V that taunts me every time he’s in his board shorts.
Liam’s body is honestly one that sculptors could use as inspiration. It feels like a lie not to acknowledge that fact.
“Complimenting you goes against every fiber of my being, but shit, you have an incredible body,” I say.
“You’re not too bad yourself.” He trails his fingers down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I mean, if the whole scrawny nerd look is your thing.”
I push him so he’s flat on his back and climb on top so I’m hovering over him, loving the feel of his cock firming against mine.
“And is the scrawny nerd look your thing?” I ask in a husky voice as I grind our crotches together. It’s the world’s most redundant question, given how quickly he’s getting hard against me.
Still, I want to hear him say it.
