Page 88 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

“Mm,” I hum, pretending to be unimpressed though my body betrays me with every subtle arch and shiver. “I was until you turned into an octopus.”

Honestly, his hands are all over me.

“Octopus?” He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “I’m keeping you warm.”

“Is that what you call this?” I tease, twisting slightly to glare at him over my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure you’re the reason I couldn’t sleep.”

Not all.

Not even a little.

We had sex three times, which is a record for me.

His lips brush my neck again, just below my ear, and I feel him smirk. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

I roll my eyes, yawning at the same time. “Last night was different. Last night, I wasn’t trying to sleep.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so sexy and irresistible.”

I melt into that comment and lie. “Flattery gets you nowhere.”

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, hand sliding lower, just above my best bits. “I think it’s working.”

I let out a dramatic sigh, though it’s hard to sound annoyed when his lips are making a trail of fire down my shoulder.

It feels so good.

Best way to wake up…

My eyes flutter shut as I try to resist how good it feels, but I’m losing the battle. I should be annoyed. I should push him away, climb out of this bed and get dressed to reclaim my morning as mine.

Go be productive!Carpe Diem, seize the day!

Instead, I tilt my head just slightly, giving him more access ‘cause I’m thirsty like that.

“You’re way too confident for someone who hogs blankets and snores.”

“I don’t snore,” Gio feigns offense, nipping at my shoulder.

“Oh, you definitely do,” I tease, glancing at him over my shoulder. “It’s like sleeping next to a bear.”

His hair is a mess, the bed head sticking up in a way that should look ridiculous but only makes him more attractive. Gio looks as tired as I feel, but still in a great mood considering how early it is.

He is in no rush to shoo me out of his place.

“You just told me you got no sleep last night.”

Busted.

His giant hand squeezes my hip before it begins tracing lazy patterns against my skin. Over my pelvis. Around my belly button.

“You’re not running for the hills.”

“I’m too tired to run,” I whisper with another yawn. “And you’re warm. Like a space heater.”

I roll onto my back, tilting my head to look up at him fully, and the sight nearly makes me lose my train of thought.

Big smile. Crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he looks at me. A nose that drags itself down the side of my neck, sniffing me like he can’t get enough.

---