he repeated the process, loving the drowsy, appreciative sounds she made in her sleep and the way she rocked her hips with restive sexuality against the side of his.
Then she suddenly went still—and he was abruptly wide-awake with the knowledge that she likely was as well.
Not to mention the realization that he’d been caught feeling her up with all the finesse of a fourteen-year-old achieving second base for the very first time. His hand on her breast went slack and he slid it surreptitiously to her lower rib cage. Then had to swallow a snort.
Because, really? Like if you’re stealthy enough she won’t notice you’ve been getting all handsy with her tit?
Without raising her head from his chest, she slowly tilted it back to look up at him. Her sleepy blue eyes were still heavy lidded. “Well, this is awkward,” she murmured. But, yawning, she didn’t look the least bit discomfited as she pushed back to sit on the rumpled sleeping bag next to his mat. “Sorry about that. Nancy always said I was a bed hog.” She yawned again, long and luxuriously, stretching with feline voluptuousness.
He had to drag his gaze away and clear his throat. “Yeah, and I apologize for copping a feel. My only defense is I was mostly asleep.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, that and I’m a man.”
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