Page 67 of Catching Sparks

With a soft smile, I have him tucked beneath the comforter with the pillow flipped to the fresh side. He nuzzles into it again, a low noise escaping him.

I go to pull back, but he slides his fingers around my wrist. He tugs on it, eyes closed. “Get in bed with me, honey.”

My brows shoot up. “I thought you didn’t want me close enough to get sick.”

“I’m a selfish man. I no longer care about that. Not if it means I can sleep with you right now.”

“You only want this because you’re sick.”

“Maybe. I’ll worry about that later.”

I rock forward on my toes, wanting to slide into bed and curl myself around him. “If you’re a jerk to me about this when you get better, I will kick your ass.”

“And I’ll let you,” he whispers, shoving the blanket down his chest.

“Get in. Please,” he adds, begging.

I blow out a breath, rolling my shoulders back. I’m not dressed to lie in bed with a man who’s radiating heat like a furnace in my jeans. Moving quickly and clumsily, I pop the button of the denim open and wiggle them down my hips. With every inch they fall, I look at Garrison, expecting to see him stealing glances at my nakedness, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Once the jeans are at my ankles, I toss them aside and leave my shirt on before finally crawling into bed.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” I say, hoping I don’t regret this.

It’s hard to imagine that I could. I hardly make it onto my back before he’s pulling me toward him until I’m half-sprawled on his chest. My leg finds a home across his lap as I nuzzle my cheek into the hot skin of his pec, drawing in a lungful of his natural scent now mixed with mine.

Our height difference makes cuddling a bit more difficult than usual, especially when I stretch my leg and shift my knee over his dick, yanking a groan from him.

“Stop groaning. You’re not getting any until you’re better,” I warn.

He laughs deeply, with more rasp than usual. “Thank you.”

I hum, burying my nose in his chest, the light peppering of dark hair there tickling my nostrils. Setting my palm on his flat stomach, I ask, “For what? Threatening you?”

“For a lot more than that. Too much to explain right now.”

“Later, then,” I breathe.

“Later.”

24

POPPY

I curl further into the warm body beneath my face, tightening the arm I have thrown across it, holding on tight. A growl sounds in my ear, and I frown, half-lucid in the dark. Parting my lips, I swipe along them with my tongue, picking up the feeling of thin hairs on the tip of it.

I rub the skin beneath my palm and feel something that has to be a hip bone slightly lower than where I have my cheek. I roll my face until my mouth brushes a thicker patch of hair, leading lower, and lower?—

“Get back up here,” Garrison grunts in the silence, still bossy even in a half-asleep state.

He reaches blindly for my hair and wraps the length of the ponytail around his fist, gently pulling on it before releasing it, holding me again. I push myself back up his body and return my head to where it was when we fell asleep. The steady thump beneath my ear is calming, quiet.

“Your body is unnaturally long,” I say on a sleepy exhale.

“You’re not short either.”

“I’m medium height.”

“I like it.”

I smile, uncaring if he can feel it against his skin. My scalp aches from having my hair up for so long, the pain impossible to ignore now that his tug reminded me of it. The thought of uncoiling myself from around Garrison to pull it free, however . . . I’d rather not.

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