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I can feel something else, too. The softness of her ass pressing right against my cock. At the realization, it thickens in an instant. I’m throbbing against her. My jaw muscles flex, and I suck in a deep breath—but the fact that the breath is laced with her scent only makes me harder.
Olivia lets out a tiny, sleepy moan. That’s the last thing I need if I’m going to get this hard-on under control.
Her hips tilt back. The soft, round curve of her ass generates friction against my length.
Fuck. I bite my bottom lip to keep a groan from ripping out of my throat. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel every pulse of that heartbeat right at the base of my dick.
She does it again. It’s not just a tilt, but a roll this time, creating friction that sends a wave of pleasure rippling through me. It takes everything I have not to grind my hips forward, thrusting back into her softness.
A thought makes a jolt of electricity zip up my spine.
Is she awake? Is she doing this on purpose?
It’s ridiculous. I shove the thought away. This isn’t that good of a dream.
Taking deep breaths, I bring my heart rate back down. After a while, my cock starts to deflate. I keep control of my breathing.
Her smell in my nose and the feeling of her body against mine turns into a mellower, contented kind of bliss.
I wrap my arm around her waist, lightly. The feeling of holding her, cradling her, makes my heart flutter. My chest hums with satisfaction.
Soon, I’m drifting back to sleep, my arm draped over Olivia, her warm body against my chest, her scent dancing in my nostrils.
Just as sleep pulls me back under, I wish that this moment would never end.
23
OLIVIA
Afeeling of emptiness claws at me when I wake up.
The bed feels cold. Like there’s warmth that should be here but isn’t.
I’m sleeping on my side, curled up, facing the window. I roll onto my back and spread out my arms. That’s when I realize it. Why the bed feels so empty, so cold.
Turning my head to the side, I see that Tuck is gone.
The stupidest thing happens. My stomach drops, a hollow and disappointed feeling panging inside me.
Must be one of those weird tricks your brain or body can play on you when you first wake up. Like sometimes you’ll wake up and swear it’s Saturday morning for a blissful second, only for the realization to come crashing down on you that it’s Wednesday.
My brain’s playing a much stranger trick on me this morning. It’s fooling me into thinking that I wanted to wake up in bed with Tuck next to me.
Much more ridiculous than mixing up what day of the week it is. Surely the realization that what I’m actually feeling is relief will hit me at any moment.
I lie still waiting for it to happen. But it doesn’t.
I wonder if he decided to check out already? Maybe he’s an early riser and didn’t feel like waiting around for me to get up.
At that thought, my stomach sinks even lower, a deeper disappointment simmering in my chest.
I haul myself to a sitting position. I stretch, yawning loudly. My head still feels groggy with sleep when I finally fling the cover off and stand up. I shake off the cobwebs—and when my mind clears, a memory rushes back to me.
Last night. Waking up sometime in the dark, early hours of the morning. Tuck pressed against me. Feeling the hard, impossibly huge outline of his length against my ass.
Pressing back into it. Rolling against it.
Heat gathers between my legs, pinpricks of arousal skittering up my back.
