9. Chapter 9 Bree
Chapter 9: Bree
I woke up warm. Too warm, and I wasn’t alone.
My eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the window. My head was resting on a firm chest, and an arm was slung securely around my waist. My body was pressed up against Scott’s, his heat seeping into me, making me drowsy and comfortable. Content.
What the hell?
My heart kicked up a notch as reality crashed down. Scott was in bed with me. His face was relaxed in sleep, his usual hard lines softened. He looked younger like this. Peaceful, and so goddamn handsome it made my chest ache.
How did this happen?
Panic flared briefly until flashes of last night came back. The scotch, the couch, me falling asleep on him. He must’ve brought me in here, but that didn’t explain why he was still in bed with me, holding me like I was his.
And that wasn’t even the best part.
I froze as I became acutely aware of the heavy, solid press of his erection against my thigh. Thick, hard, and impossible to ignore.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus .
Heat bloomed low in my belly. My skin tingled, and my breath caught as I shifted slightly, feeling him even more. My body betrayed me, already reacting, warming, aching for him. Thank goodness he was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the war I was having with myself.
But what was a girl to do?
I was far from experienced. Sure, I’d had a few encounters over the years, but nothing like this. Nothing that made me feel like I might combust from just the feel of a man pressed against me. And Scott? He was the kind of man that made women fantasize for a lifetime.
I bit my lip, staring at him. This was dangerous, but I didn’t want to stop.
Tentatively, I let my hand wander under the blanket, fingers brushing along his abdomen where his shirt had twisted up. Hard muscle met my touch, his abs tight beneath my fingertips. I traced lower, following that delicious V that disappeared into his low-slung jeans. My breath deepened as I felt the heat of his skin, seeing the faint lines of tattoos wrapping over his hips.
God, he was built like a dream. Rough and rugged, every inch of him screaming strength and control. My fingertips traced the edge of his waistband, daring to dip lower, but I hesitated. My body was screaming at me to keep going, to feel more, but nerves held me back.
Instead, I leaned up on my elbows, hovering over him, my lips over his mouth. I pressed a soft kiss to his lips, just a taste of him. His mouth was warm, firm, and I lingered a second longer than I should have.
When I pulled back, my eyes collided with his stormy grey ones.
He was awake.
His pupils were blown wide, eyes dark and heated. His arm tightened around me, pulling me flush against him. His erection was pressing harder now.
“What are you doing, Bree?”
I swallowed, but there was no hiding the flush in my cheeks, the way my body was practically vibrating with need.
“What does it look like?” I whispered.
God help me, I wanted him.