Page 57 of Game Face

“Mmm,” I moan, wanting to shift to my side.

“Here, let me help,” he says, moving the bolster pillow from under my knees to between them so I can lie straight on my side.

I can’t do it for long, but I can long enough. His hand moves to my face, brushing my hair away again before his thumb traces along my cheekbone, down my jaw, and over my lips.

“It’s still nighttime. Go back to sleep. I wanted to be here when you woke up,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead and holding them there.

“You were here when I woke up. Now I’m awake,” I muse.

“Shh, no you’re not. This is a dream. Go back to sleep.”

Wyatt’s soft chuckle draws me deep into his chest. I ball my hands up against his heart, my left hand holding my right. I’ve learned to let the left lead.

“I can’t believe I didn’t hear you shower,” I say, breathing him in. He smells like the lavender soap my mom put in the guest bathroom, and his hair is soaking the pillow.

“I tried to be sneaky.”

“You are very sneaky,” I respond. “Now, play “Sandman.””

My nose grazes along his neck as he breathes out a quiet laugh in response to my latest nickname.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s yes, Cheerleader,” I correct. I never stopped being one.

His lips kiss my forehead again.

“Yes, Cheer Captain,” he says, one-upping my request. I smile against his body, glad he slipped into my bed without a shirt on so I can taste his skin with my kiss.

“I’m not very good at lullabies.” His fingers weave into my hair, the massage to my scalp making my eyes fall shut again. He’s right. He’s a terrible singer.

“Then, do what you’re good at,” I hum, already drifting thanks to his warmth and touch.

His body shifts a little, and I feel the heat from his breath at my ear.

“I’m good at this,” he says, his tongue peeking out to sample a taste of my earlobe. His teeth nip at it next, and a shower of goose bumps trails down my neck all the way to my toes.

“You are,” I sigh out, my eyes heavy but not so drowsy that I’m willing to turn any of this down.

My breath hitches when his palm slips under my T-shirt, and his cool fingers walk up my ribcage until his hand curves along my breast. I moan softly as his thumb rubs over my nipple. Hismouth shifts to mine, his lips closing around my bottom one and sucking it in. His teeth graze along my skin as he brings his finger to his thumb under my shirt and rolls my nipple into a hard pebble.

“Sandman,” I say, my voice dreamy, my lips a drunken smile.

Wyatt kisses my chin, trailing along my jaw, until his mouth stops at my ear again.

“Roll over,” he says, his hand shifting to my hip, ready to help me.

I move to my back, bracing myself on my right shoulder as Wyatt adjusts the body pillow for me again. He swoops my shirt up my body, helping me slide my arms out one at a time before nestling my head into the pillow as he holds my back against his chest. He’s so warm, and I can feel his cock pressing against my ass through his boxers.

“Close your eyes and go to sleep,” he says, surely knowing that won’t happen. I listen to him anyhow, shutting my eyes so I can’t see what’s coming.

I revel in the foreplay as his right arm curls around my body and his palm covers my left breast. His fingers graze along the hard peak, his touch featherlight, teasing me into a precious ache. If I had the strength to push my breast into his hand, I would. I can, however, press my ass into his cock, so I torture him just as he is me until his fingers pull my nipple into a raw bud as he grinds into me from behind.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he utters, his voice quiet but heavy at my ear.

“I am sleeping,” I lie. He presses into me again, pulling on my nipple until I gasp.

“Liar.”

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