Page 88 of Can't Text This

We finally fell asleep around four AM, which—I peek over at the alarm clock glowing on the bedside table—was only two hours ago.

“Why are you awake?”

“Sun’s up, I’m up,” I answer.

She groans. “Robbie, I can’t. No more sex.”

Laughing, I reach down and brush the hair out of her face. “I didn’t mean my dick, Monty.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you sound disappointed?”

She peers over me. “Do I?” I nod. “Well, I didn’t mean to. I meant what I said—I’m exhausted. No more banging.”

“Ever?”

“Don’t get crazy,” she says, rolling away and stretching out. The blanket slips down her chest, exposing her bare breasts.

Prior to our first tryst last night, she would have freaked about this. Hell, she might have even freakedafterthe first time. She’d have snatched the blanket back up so fast I’d have missed it if I blinked.

But something’s changed in Monty in the past several hours.

She’s more comfortable. Confident.Sexy.

Not that she wasn’t sexy before, because the buttoned-up goody-two-shoes look she has going on totally gets my cock hard, but her newfound self-esteem boost is making her even more irresistible.

Which is real fucking inconvenient for my libido.

She almost reminds me of that teacher every dude secretly had a crush on in high school, the one who was all business and no fun but looked fucking hot in those cardigans you’re pretty sure your grandmother also owned. There was no reason behind your attraction other than the fact that she was guarded, something you couldn’t touch.

That was Monty…until last night.

“What?” she asks, grinning up at me with sleepy eyes.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me…what is it?”

“You’re beautiful, Monty. So fucking beautiful.”

She brings her hands up over her face, covering her smile. “Stop it.”

I yank at her hands, grabbing hold of them and rolling until I’m on top of her. I fit right between her legs like that’s the place I was always meant to be. My dick brushes against her pussy and I laugh when she seeks more contact.

No more banging, my ass.

I press her hands overtop her head, holding them there as I stare down at her.

“Never. You’re fucking gorgeous and I’ll never stop telling you that.”

“It makes me blush, and I look ridiculous when I blush.”

“Sexy—you look sexy when you blush.”

“Robbie.”

“Nope.” I pepper kisses along her cheek, trailing a path to her lips. “You’re not talking me out of this. I’m right.”

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