Page 8 of Timber's Girl

How did we end up snuggled together?

My brain is still fuzzy although my stomach doesn’t feel like it's going to revolt again. For a minute, I search for details of the previous night, but nothing comes to mind, and frankly, I’m still tired. It’s too early to try to piece together what happened at Rust after Martha disappeared.

Letting it go for now, my eyes flutter shut as I shift into a more comfortable position. My range of motion is limited with Timber anchoring me to the mattress, but strangely, I don't mind.

A part of me likes where he is.

I feel comfortable and safe, even if it’s a little hard to breathe and his body is like a fucking furnace. It’s a small price to pay for the feeling of security.

I inwardly laugh at myself. A burly military veteran who also rides with a motorcycle club should scare the hell out of me, yet he represents safety.

Maybe my head’s broken after the stress and abuse my ex put me through. Or my sense of who’s safe in the world is warped since Dean was a fucking cop.

Timber huffs like he knows my thoughts are wandering into bad territory, and I let it distract me. The man sleeps like the dead, despite my moving around. He hasn't readjusted the whole time I've been awake.

Must be nice being able to sleep that deeply.

I usually wake up a few times a night from tossing and turning and more recently bad dreams. They’ve improved with therapy and distance from Dean, but they still lurk in the depths of my mind, primed to emerge when I least expect it.

Maybe Timber's presence can protect me from those, too…

CHAPTER SEVEN

TIMBER

I fell asleep during my watch over Lindy. Like a fucking amateur. Like I hadn’t stayed awake for days at a time in the military.

Unplanned as it was, though, it resulted in one of the best nights I've had in awhile. Lindy’s body is heaven compared to a mattress. Her softness and warmth wrapped around me and calmed my restless thoughts in record time.

Especially since my sleep schedule usually consists of a few hours each night, because I can never let go enough to be completely vulnerable even in my sleep. At least once a week, I pass out from sheer exhaustion and sleep-deprivation.Thoseare normally my best nights.

But even that doesn't compare to sleeping with Lindy.

Somehow, in the process of comforting her, she returned the favor without even trying. I slept like a fucking baby and woke nestled between her breasts to prove it.

When I realize where I am, why I actually had been dreaming, I'm stunned. This woman managed to do the impossible in her sleep.

So, naturally, rather than exiting the bed like a gentleman, I stay like a fucking creeper and study her relaxed features, trying to figure out what her magic is.

Wild curls spread out on the pillow like blooming vines of scarlet. I reach out to touch one, and it immediately captures my finger, then after a gentle tug, it springs back into shape upon release.

Faint freckles lay scattered across her cheeks, painting a direct trail to her pretty mouth, slightly parted with each slow breath.

My morning wood continues to harden the longer I look at those perfectly heart-shaped lips, so I glance away, soaking in the rest of her body that’s hidden under the borrowed clothes.

Dammit.

That’s not doing anything to calm my blood either. Because while she may be blocked from my eyes, I still feel every curve under my body. Remember being cushioned by her full breasts.

Like she hears my inner struggle, Lindy shifts, which cocoons my cock between her lush thighs. A strangled groan escapes my throat as it takes all my strength not to push a little deeper.

Get up and move, pussy.

Fuck, don't think about pussy…

Because now my mind is filled with an image of what Lindy's would look like. Pretty, pink… wet for my tongue.Fuck.I jump out of bed, grab my discarded jeans, and run to the kitchen to put distance between us.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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