9. Zak
The ring of a phone—her phone—sliced through Zak’s deepest sleep in years. She was going to pick it up and get out of bed.
One more minute.
A long, toned arm reached over her, plucked the vile piece of technology off the nightstand, and responded to the voice on the other side with a raspy, groggy, “Mm-hm, yeah. See you in a bit,” before hanging up.
That arm stayed wrapped around her, though, as Chase hauled her closer. His even breathing pushed his abdomen against her spine. Another part of him pushed against her ass. The stubble on his chin scratched her neck as he peppered it with lazy kisses that filled her heart until it was overflowing. Flooding warmth through her chest.
She didn’t want to move. Not one muscle.
“I could get used to this,” she said, her voice muffled by the fluffy down pillow. “I hate talking to people in the morning. Especially those wake-up calls at the hotel. They always sound too cheerful. No one isthat happy first thing in the fucking morning.”
The hearty lilt of his chuckle was among the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard—all of which belonged to Chase. In a world where everyone would soon be able to purchase his voice, knowing the way it sounded first thing in the morning, unused and unrefined, felt as intimate as knowing the sounds he made in bed.
“Well, I dunno about them, but I’m happy,” he said. “So, so happy.”
There was no playing it cool when her skin flushed pink from cheeks to chest. She didn’t have to say anything, not that she could when she was in the middle of trying to figure out how she was ever going to spend another night without him.
There was a reason she hadn’t crossed this line before. She knew it would be dangerous. There was no universe in which spending more time with him would do anything other than make her fall harder and faster.
She rolled over, facing Chase, and caved into his chest. Until her sleep-tousled hair poked his eyes, nose, and mouth. Their legs tangled together, and her toes were centimeters away from intertwining with his. And still, he held her tight at the small of her back.
“Five more minutes?” she mumbled, fighting her eyelids as they tried to drift closed again.
“If you think I’m going to be the first one to get out of this bed after how long I spent trying to get you in it, you’re out of your damned mind.”
So, five minutes passed. Then another five, and another.
At eight-thirty, Zak turned Chase’s jest into truth by being the first of them to roll out of bed, but instead of feeling motivated to get ready when she returned from the bathroom, all she wanted to do was indulge in him a little longer.
“Five more minutes?” Chase asked. He was propped up on a backrest of pillows, holding a cup of hot coffee in each hand, but drinking her in with eyes that looked like a summer sky in the middle of winter.
And if he thought she could say no to anything when he was smiling at her like that, then he was out of his damned mind.