Page 21 of Becoming His Pet

Chapter Eight

Asking to see his playroomhad been a stupid idea. Nora could admit that in the dark of the night, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Once the blush finally left her face, and the light fluttering of her stomach ceased, she could see the error.

At first it had been just a distraction tactic. Get him off the idea she wasn’t telling him the full truth. Because she wasn’t. She couldn’t.

But once he’d gotten close to her and she could feel his heat, sense his desire, it turned into something more. Actual curiosity. His fingers on her cheek, running across her jaw, all of the little touches, they reached deep down into her body, stirring up sensations she hadn’t experienced before.

And when she rolled her eyes! He may have thought he hid his real feelings behind that husky laugh of his, but she was a quick study. He didn’t like it. While filing that bit of information underThings to do to irritate himin her mind, it didn’t serve much purpose otherwise.

The air conditioning unit kicked on again outside the window. Apparently when they’d left Chicago they’d dragged the humidity with them. She hated the heat, and when it was stuffy it was all the worse.

At least the air was cool in the cabin. She snuggled a little deeper beneath the quilt but froze when her foot brushed against his calf. Turning her head to see if she’d wakened him, she couldn’t help but stare. His hair was messy, covering his face, his mouth pinched open from the pillow shoved against his mouth. He was a stomach sleeper.

At least he didn’t snore.

A softdingcame from the corner chair where his jeans had been tossed. She’d already been in bed, covers pulled up to her ears when he came out of the bathroom, having showered himself, and got into bed. She’d missed seeing him in his boxers.

She knew they were boxers, because once she was sure he was asleep, she took a peek under the blanket. She had every right to know if the man was naked in the bed with her or not.

He was not.

Though with his positioning, she could only make out his muscular back, tight ass, and his naked legs. She really needed to stop drooling over him. It wouldn’t go anywhere, she knew it, so why bother putting her heart through the torment. Again.

Anotherping.

She looked over at him; didn’t he hear that? Weren’t marines supposed to sleep lightly so they could hear if an enemy approached? Maybe that was just in the movies and in the dirty novels she read.

Deciding sleep wouldn’t be arriving anytime soon, she eased out of the bed, careful not to disturb Sleeping Beauty. After a thirdpingshe decided to find the source.

His phone.

Of course.

He hadn’t taken it out of his jeans when he came to bed. She glanced at his still form before slipping it from his pocket. The buckle on his belt, still snug in the loops of his jeans, jangled and she froze, checking on him once more.

Still sleeping.

How did he expect to keep them safe being such a deep sleeper?

Shaking her head, she pressed the phone to her chest to keep the illuminated screen from cascading throughout the room, and tiptoed out of the bedroom. He’d left a lamp on in the living room, so she headed in that direction.

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