Page 30 of The Wedding Wrecker

Jesus Christ.

"Emma," I said louder, desperation making my voice rough. "Wake up."

She responded by grinding down again, this time with purpose. Her head tipped back, exposing the elegant line of her throat.

"Emma!"

Her eyes flew open. For a moment, she just stared at me, clearly confused about why she was on top of me. She looked down at her hands, which were each clenched on one of my pecs like she was holding on for the ride of her life.

Then understanding dawned, followed quickly by horror.

She scrambled off me so fast she nearly fell off the bed. One hand pressed between her legs while the other crossed over her chest, where her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric.

"I... you..." She backed toward the bathroom. Then her eyes fell on my very much erect cock, which was outlined against my thin pants. “Why is it like that?!”

“Hey!” I said, pulling the blankets up. “I was minding my own business. If a beautiful woman starts humping me in her sleep with barely any clothes on, it’s going to stand up at attention. I’m innocent, here.”

“Beautiful wo—” she cut herself off, shook her head and closed her eyes. "This didn't happen."

The door slammed. A moment later, I heard the shower start.

I fell back against the pillow, trying to think about anything except how she'd felt against me. How she'd moaned my name.

"Fuck," I muttered, pushing my hands through my hair. And then I had the torture of laying there and trying not to picture her naked body in the shower for the next fifteen minutes. I mostly failed, which wasn’t helping the whole morning wood situation.

The water finally shut off, and a few moments later, I heard her voice come muffled through the door. “We’re seriously never talking about this. Ever.”

I couldn't help smiling. "Which part? The drooling or the grinding? Or maybe how you moaned my name? Because that raises some obvious questions about what kind of dream you were having. I mean, with the grinding and the moaning, a man would be forgiven for thinking?—"

"James Carter, I swear to God?—"

"I have to say, your technique was impressive, even while unconscious."

Something thudded against the door. "I hate you."

"That's not what your moans implied.”

"I'm going to murder you in your sleep."

"So you said last night. And I have to say, if what I woke up to was your attempt at murder? Well, consider me far less scared. In fact, I’d welcome any future attempts on my life.”

"Do I need to get out the PowerPoint and go over the rules again?

“For your benefit or mine? Because I’m pretty sure dry humping me in your sleep breaks all the rules, sweetheart. Then again, there’s something on my pants… Maybe it wasn’t so dry."

"I did not—" She made a sound of pure frustration. "That was an unconscious accident."

"So you're saying you can't control yourself around me?"

"I'm saying I was asleep and my body betrayed me in ways I will never forgive it for."

I watched the door, trying to imagine the look on her face right now. "If it helps, you weren't the only one enjoying it."

Silence. Then, so quiet I almost missed it: "Really?"

The vulnerability in her voice made my chest ache. "Emma..."

"No. Nope. Forget I said that." I heard her moving around the bathroom. "We're going to pretend this morning never happened. And you're going to wear a shirt to bed from now on."

---