Page 64 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
“Good.”
He leans his head to my chest and trails kisses along my breasts. Soon he’s swirling his tongue around my nipples, and I’m panting. He makes an “mmm” noise before kissing down my stomach.
He nips at my hip before looking up at me. “I’m not tired either.” He kisses and licks around the spot where I need to feel him most.
I tug a hand through his hair. “Lewis... Please...” I can barely get the words out.
“I want to hear you scream again, baby.”
Seconds later, his tongue is right where I want it, and I’m shouting his name like it’s the only word I know.
When I wake, the deep orange glow of late afternoon paints the walls of Lewis’s bedroom.
I close my eyes, relishing the feel of his playing big spoon behind me, his arm draped over my stomach. He twitches slightly, and his hold around me tightens before he pulls me even closer into him. My heartbeat skids at the protective move done in his sleep. No one’s ever held me like this, awake or asleep—like they can’t bear to lose contact for even one second.
I decide right then and there that there’s no better way on earth to wake up than being cuddled by Lewis Prescott, doting and protective even in his sleep.
Even his soft snores are endearing. I’ve always loathed snorers in the past, but something about the gentle rumble he makes is comforting and sweet at once.
I blink a few times, my vision blurry. When I remember I left my glasses in the living room just before our sexfest kicked off, I let out a soft groan into my pillow. I’ll have to leave this comfy cocoon of Lewis’s body and bedsheets to grab them. I start to lean up, but then I spot my glasses sitting on the nightstand next to my side of the bed. He must have slipped out earlier and brought them in here.
I shift as quietly as I can to face him in bed, but my careful movements fail, because he opens his eyes. I grab my glasses from the nightstand and swipe them on.
“Hey,” he says through a yawn and an insanely sexy-sleepy smile.
“Hey. Thanks for getting my glasses.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I melt into a puddle of goo. Good lord, this guy is freaking perfect. I want to keep him forever.
Clarity crashes through me at that moment. Lewis is going to walk out of my life in a matter of weeks after he finishes fixing up my house. He’s going to go back to his A-list Hollywood life, where he’ll be attending premieres, hounded by fans and press, and traveling all over to film. I’m going to go back to my regular-person life in Half Moon Bay and San Francisco, where I’ll be hanging out with my family while balancing working and volunteering.
Our worlds couldn’t be more different—and that means after this renovation is over, we’ll probably never see each other again.
A hard swallow moves through my throat, triggering the problem-solver part of my brain. It’s the part that figures out what to do when a contractor bid comes in too high or the materials for a build are on back order or a crew shows up late. I identify the issue and come up with ways to solve it quickly and efficiently. Just like I know I have to do now.
“So...that was fun,” I say in a quiet voice.
The corner of his perfect pink mouth hooks up in a sleepy half smile. “It was. Which time was the most fun, though? Round one or two or three...”
He leans down and presses a whisper-soft kiss to my shoulder. His mouth moves to my breasts, which short-circuits my brain.
“To be honest, I don’t know if I can pick a favorite,” he says with his mouth against my stomach. “I kind of liked them all.”
“‘Kind of liked them’?” I lightly tug his hair while he positions himself between my legs.
The low rumble of his chuckle vibrates against the skin of my inner thigh. “What I meant to say was, I really fucking loved what we just did and would like to do it again. A lot.”
“I just...wanted...to maybe...talk about...what we’re...supposed...to do...now...”
I barely it make it through that sentence before my jaw falls open. Lewis’s mouth is between my legs once again, turning my brain to mush and setting my entire body on fire.
But after a second, he stops and glances up at me. He rests his cheek against the inside of my thigh, lifting one of his eyebrows. “You wanna talk? Now?” he asks, his expression amused.
My chest rises as I struggle to catch my breath. “Well...yeah. Look, as much as I want to keep having amazing sex with you, we should also probably talk about it. It changes a lot about our situation.”
“You’re right, talking is way more fun than sex.”
I give his hair another tug, this time harder.
