Page 34 of Parentmoon

“Boring you?” Dallas teases.

“Oh goodness, no! I’ve been overserved. Sunshine, good wine, rum punch.” Morning sex, orgasms, and romantic dinner.

“Time for bed?” he questions.

“You’re the one who has to get up early.” He has a five a.m. launch.

“Want to sleep in the bed with you tonight.” His voice lowers, rough but sweet. He drops his head to press against mine.

“Sick of the couch already?” I tease.

“Sick of sleeping alone.” With his forehead pressed to mine, I pull back as best I can, attempting to catch his eyes. He doesn’t look at me, instead he reaches for his phone on the table and clicks off the music.

He doesn’t strike me as a man who would be lonely, but maybe that isn’t what he means.

“I guess I can spare some space in the bed,” I joke. “But I heard you snoring last night.”

“Warding off the dragons.” His lips crook up on one side. “Gotta protect the queen in her tower.”

I laugh heartily at this. “You’re a charmer, Dallas Cole.”

He chuckles, deep and rugged. “Another assumption about me?”

In this assessment, I don’t think I’m wrong. He’s slightly immature, definitely playful, and a little rough around the edges, but collectively, he’s a surprisingly endearing package. His body isn’t half bad either, insert sarcasm. He’s kind of a dream.

“Don’t you have assumptions about me?” With all his mentions of things Michael says about me, I’m becoming concerned Michael hasn’t painted an accurate picture of me.

“Nope.” He pops the P, jostling me against him. “You’re exactly who I’d thought you’d be.”

“And who is that?” I tease, swiping a finger down his firm nose.

“Dangerous to my heart but good for my soul.”

Oh my.

I lower my voice. “I might feel the same way.” He’s definitely good for my slowly awakening libido but my heart is going to be a different beast once our days on this island end.

“Might?” Dallas whispers, leaning in to kiss me.

Nope, there’s no question. He’s reckless for my heart but wildly delicious for my soul.

Chapter 9

Our kissing is interrupted by Marietta and Miguel, who return to clear away the dessert dishes and the table. Dallas leads me into the house, and we agree to take turns getting ready for bed.

“Here.” He holds out a T-shirt for me before I enter the bathroom. One that’s dark green and soft looking. “I can’t sleep with you in that fraternity shirt. It makes me feel like I’m robbing the cradle with a college girl.” He winks.

“Would you sleep with a girl still in college?” The thought is off-putting.

Dallas straightens. “Are you out of your mind? I’m more interested in the MILF who was wearing that shirt earlier.”

His stern response forces me to laugh, recalling the tee I’d worn earlier was from a mother-son weekend. Taking his shirt from him, I hug it to my chest. “Thank you.”

I complete my nightly routine first. When he eventually meets me up in the loft, for a second, I panic.

I haven’t slept—just sleep—with a man in more than a decade.

True to his word, Dallas snuggles up behind me. His body temperature raises mine. Or maybe it’s just the sensation of his closeness, the intimacy of sleeping with someone. The prickly brush of the hair on his legs against mine. The warmth of his bare chest through the cotton of his T-shirt I’m wearing. Or the self-awareness I have that only a small scrap of underwear separates me from him. I’m not wearing pajama shorts tonight.