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“Garrett,” I murmur.
He doesn’t stir.
I scooch closer and stroke his cheek. His eyelids flutter, but he doesn’t wake up.
“Garrett,” I say again.
“Mmmmfhrhghd?”
His gibberish makes me smile. I lean in and press my lips to his.
His eyes fly open.
“Morning,” I say innocently.
He blinks in rapid succession. “Did I dream that or did you really just kiss me?” he asks groggily.
“You didn’t dream it.”
Confusion fogs his eyes, but he’s growing more alert. “Why?”
“Because I felt like it.” I sit up and take a breath. “Are you one-hundred percent awake? Because there’s something really important I need to ask you.”
A huge yawn overtakes his face as he slides into an upright position. The blanket falls to his waist and his bare chest is revealed, and my mouth promptly goes dry. He’s cut like a diamond. Hard edges and gleaming skin and pure masculinity.
“What’s up?” he says in a sleep-gravelly voice.
There’s absolutely no way to phrase this without sounding desperate and pathetic, so I simply blurt out the words and let them hang in the air.
“Will you have sex with me?”
After the longest pause imaginable, Garrett wrinkles his forehead. “Now?”
Despite the embarrassment tightening my stomach, I can’t stop the laugh that pops out. “Um, no. Not now.” Call me vain, but I refuse to have sex with anyone when I have morning breath and bedhead, and haven’t shaved any pertinent areas. “Maybe tonight, though?”
Garrett’s expression is like a Wheel of Fortune spin, going from shocked to incredulous to mystified, inching toward intrigued before finally landing on suspicious. “I think this might be a prank, but I can’t figure out where you’re going with it.”
“It’s not a prank.” I meet his gaze head-on. “I want you to have sex with me.” Okay, wait, that sounds wrong. “I mean, I want to have sex with you. I want us to have sex with each other.”
His lips twitch.
Wonderful. He’s trying not to laugh at me.
“Are you still drunk?” he asks. “Because if you are, I promise to play the rare gentleman card and never bring up this conversation again.”
“I’m not drunk. I’m serious.” I shrug. “Do you want to or what?”
Garrett stares at me.
“Well?” I prompt.
His dark eyebrows knit together in a frown. It’s pretty obvious he has no idea what to make of my request.
“It’s a simple yes or no answer, Garrett.”
“Simple?” he bursts out. “Are you kidding me? There’s nothing simple about this.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Are you forgetting what you told me at Maxwell’s party? The kiss meant nothing, we’re just friends, blah, blah.”
“I did not say blah blah,” I grumble.
