Page 78 of Defensive Zone

“Right there. Oh. Right there,” she replied.

“Gabi, are you having sex dreams about me?” he asked.

Wait. That wasn’t part of her dream.

She bolted up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her naked chest. She glanced around the room. Not her room. His room.

Oh god.

“Stop freaking out,” he said, tugging her to face him.

“Oh my god. I fell asleep. What time is it?” she asked.

“We’ll get to that later. What were you dreaming about? And if I put my fingers between your legs, how soaked would you be?” he asked, calm as ever.

Heat filled her cheeks and her nipples tightened into pebbles.

Damn stupid nipples.

She looked around the room, and it looked like the light coming in from the window wasn’t too bright. Maybe it was still early in the morning and she could sneak out.

“Oh, Gabi,” he whispered, and then he was trailing his fingers over her thighs.

Her body clenched. Yes, she was wet, goddammit. She’d been having a freaking sex dream.

“Max, I need to go to my room,” she said, but she didn’t shift away. His fingers felt too good.

His chuckle was low like he was reading her mind.

There were so many reasons why she shouldn’t be in his bed, but right now she couldn’t remember any of them.

“What do I have to do to get you to tell me about your dream?” he asked, his voice low.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but maybe you should kiss me,” she said, hoping to change the subject.

He grinned. “I can do that,” he said. And then his lips were on hers and any thoughts of escaping to her room before the sun came up disappeared.

“Max, you have to stop. I’m not going to be able to walk today,” she moaned a few hours later. The sky was getting pink and she was running out of time.

“If you can’t walk, you’ll just have to stay in here,” he said, trailing his hand over her back.

She squirmed under his touch. Every inch of her was buzzing from desire and bliss and exhaustion. It was glorious.

She finally shoved at his shoulder. “I have to go,” she said, rolling out of bed before he could trap her against his body again.

She grabbed his shirt from last night off the floor and slipped it over her head. She pulled on her yoga pants and balled up the rest of her clothes.

He was grinning when she looked over her shoulder at him.

“How many shirts is that?” he asked, nodding toward her chest.

“It’s not my fault they’re soft,” she said. At least this one didn’t have his name on the back of it. It was just a normal and super soft shirt.

And it smelled deliciously like him.

He ran his hand through his beard, and her thighs trembled.

His smile grew bigger.

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