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My body is programmed so it only ever enters deep sleep when covered with a weighted blanket. I only use that when I’m home. It was tricked into thinking a two-hundred-twenty-five-pound weighted blanket was covering it.
WTF? Am I talking about my body in the third person?
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I scream, but only in my head.
I can’t wake him up. I can’t face him. I?—
“Shuga bear,” he murmurs.
“Oh, hell no,” I grunt as I struggle beneath his weight and attempt to roll him off of me.
“What’s wrong? I hurt you?” he asks, pushing up off me and rubbing his eyes with two fists, like the toddler he is.
“You made me fall asleep; that’s what happened,” I snap as I shuffle off the couch.
His fists stall, still covering his eyes, and a grin spreads across his stupid face.
“There’s nothing funny about this, Locke. I’m on a fucking jo—” I snap my mouth shut before finishing the word job, even though it’s too damn late.
He stands and walks over, bends down, and grabs my sweater. “Gwendolyn, it isn’t cool. You think we’re going to fight, and you’re gonna leave without making nice.” He shakes his head, making a tsking sound.
“You’re so freaking infuriating.” I pull my tank over my head.
“Then smile before we end up on that couch again, and I take up even more of your time by cashing in on that promise. The Gwendolyn York I know doesn’t leave a promise unfulfilled. You don’t give me at least a smile, and I’m not gonna give you the do-over to make that right.”
My eyes widen, realizing he’s right. I didn’t fuck Leland Locke.
I look up into his sleepy green eyes, my cardigan hanging off his long, thick finger.
“Trust me; it wasn’t my intention to fall asleep, so how about you ditch the ’tude and give me a smile?”
I don’t just smile. I laugh so hard that I snort. This causes his entire face to break out into a full-blown, Leland Locke, panty-melting, swoon-worthy smile.
Oh, fuck no.
“It’s cute you think there’s going to be a next time, Locke.”
“Not as cute as you thinking there won’t be,” he says, giving me a closed lip, dimple-deepening smile. He adds a wink for good measure as I grab my sweater and shove my arms in it.
And that’s when I steal the last glance at his beautiful …
“What the hell did you do!” I hold up my hands as I turn for the door, needing to get the hell away from him and his pierced dick.
“I liked it, so I put a ring on it.” The damn fool does the Beyonce wave.
“Forget I asked. Not my business or concern.” I open the door, step out, and look back at him. “I’d ask you when the hell you were going to grow up, but you know, I’m not thinking you should. I mean, who wouldn’t want to live in your world?” Then I hurry out the door, down the steps, and across the driveway into CeCe’s yard, up her back steps, punch in my code for her door, and open it. Quietly shutting and locking it, I lean against it, close my eyes, and exhale.
“You good?” Marks’ voice causes me to damn near jump out of my skin.
Shit, I think as I stand up, straighten my spine, and turn to face him. “I’m good. Fell asleep. You should catch some Z’s.”
He cocks his head to the side. “You fell asleep?”
“I fell asleep.”
“So, if that wasn’t a booty call, I’m wondering if it’s got a damn thing to do with the marriage clause in your trust.”
“Um, no. Jesus, no.”
