Page 40 of Bite Your Tongue

That’d probably work, but she’s no longer on the side of the bed, but in the center.

Wiping her eyes, she sits up and leans forward to grab it. The comforter falls from her body, and I drool when her nipples show through her t-shirt.

Pure fucking perfection.

“Did you move the pillow?” She grumbles, raising a suspicious brow.

“Nah, sweets. I think you jumped the barrier so that you could be closer to me.” I lie back, putting my hands behind my head. “No need to be sneaky about it, babe. If you want to grind that sweet ass on my cock, all you have to do is ask.”

Lifting a pillow, she smacks me in the face with it. “Are you always this annoying in the morning?”

“Are you always this delightful?” I toss back.

“Yep,” she says sharply before rolling to the edge of the bed and standing up.

It’s pretty clear she’s not a morning person despite her job and its demanding hours.

“I have to get ready for work.” She yawns.

“I’ll give you a lift,” I say, quickly getting up and forgetting about the huge bulge in my briefs until her eyes land on it and widen.

That catches her attention, and before her mouth opens, it’s obvious that she’ll have some witty response for me.

“Wow, you’re, like, so obsessed with me, aren’t you, Pretty Boy?” she says teasingly, lifting a brow.

I don’t even try to respond with something cool or cocky. I mean, I fucking flew to South Carolina for Christmas just so she wouldn’t be alone.

“Yeah, pretty much.” I nod. “Is that a problem?”

“Not unless you make it one,” she says coolly before heading toward her dresser.

As she keeps her back to me, she tugs her shirt off, and I’m left staring at her sexy, bare back.

My dick was already hard, but I think it might have just turned to concrete.

Normally, I wouldn’t care if this shift was dragging because I had nothing to run home to, but now that Ryder is at my apartment, just waiting for me … I’m dying for it to end. I brought a change of clothes with me to work—per his request—and I’ve been watching the clock like my life depends on it.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out to see it’s Gemma before stepping into the supply closet, where no one can see me. Surprisingly, it’s a slow day here at the hospital, so I have a few minutes to take a call.

Sliding my finger across the screen, I accept the FaceTime request, and seconds later, my best friend’s beautiful face appears.

“Merry Christmas,” she says, her smile growing as she looks at me.

I can instantly tell she’s at her parents’ house, and I wonder if Smith is there with her or if he went across the street to Mom and Dad’s.

“Merry Christmas, boo thang.” I grin. “Was Santa good to you?”

“Better than he was to you, it seems,” she teases me. “Working on Christmas Day, Sails?”

“Yeah, well, what else do I have to do?” I shrug. “How’s the fam?”

“Good,” she says, forcing a small smile before she turns the phone and my brother’s dog, Storm, appears. “Stormy says,Merry Christmas, Auntie.”

“Stormy boy,” I say in an obnoxious voice. “What are you doing? Are you the bestest boy? Yes, you are.”

He nudges the phone with his nose, and Gemma giggles. She loves Storm so much, even though she hasn’t known him all that long. Storm was a rescue, and in a way … Gemma was too. My brother loves that dog, but I’ve noticed lately that Storm has sort of become Gem’s instead of Smith’s. But if Storm makes her happy, my brother would give him to her, no questions asked.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to saving lives. I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas,” Gemma says, ruffling the top of Storm’s head. “I love you.”

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