Page 14 of Party Favors
One step closer to Amanda flying back to her life as a reluctant heiress half a country away.
Sleep started to pull Wren under. She let her mind drift to the breathing of the woman beside her. The heat of Amanda’s body under the covers. The cinnamon-and-amber scent of Amanda’s hair was the last thing on Wren’s mind as she drifted off.
Some time later, Wren woke up with a jolt. The room was pitch black, and no light filtered through the window. The fire in the fireplace had burned out.
Silk skimmed over her legs.
No, not silk. Something better.
Warm, smooth skin hot from sleep.
Amanda’s eyes were closed, and they were facing each other. Wren had a hand fisted over Amanda’s hip, and their legs were twisted together. Amanda’s hands were curled up against Wren’s chest.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Wren said under her breath.
She tried to disentangle their legs, but Amanda rolled closer and slotted her head under Wren’s chin. Wren’s senses went on high alert.
“Okay. This is okay,” Wren whispered. And she couldn’t help herself—she had to touch Amanda’s hair, spread out behind her on the pillow. It was so soft and satiny under Wren’s fingertips.
Suddenly, Amanda rubbed her nose against Wren’s throat, and Wren had to stifle her own gasp.
Amanda’s body, which had been lax with sleep, tensed. She murmured, “Wren?”
“Yep?” Wren’s voice was threadbare.
“Oh.” Amanda audibly swallowed, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet room. “I’m not normally cuddly. I’m sorry.” She started to roll away, but Wren stopped her.
“I think it was me. Iamcuddly.”
Amanda’s face was still hidden from Wren’s view, and the darkness in the room was a veil, protecting them from pesky things like reality. The press of their bare arms and legs was heavenly, and Wren didn’t want to think too hard about it. Didn’t want to think hard enough to put a stop to it.
What Wren needed was a sign. If there was no sign, she would continue to lie there, buzzing with sleepy, dreamy yumminess. She would cuddle Amanda until they fell back asleep like the very good gal pals they were.
If there was a sign, though.
Oh, if there was a sign …
She didn’t know what she would do, but it would probably be amazing. And a bad idea. But amazing.
Wren was breathing hard, her heart slamming in her chest. Amanda’s breath matched hers, which was erotic in itself but not a sign.
Then Wren clocked an almost imperceptible sensation—Amanda’s fingertip trailing down her spine.
Goosebumps broke out over Wren’s skin. She moaned.
It was an accident, that moan. Soft and nearly silent.
But Amanda jolted. Then she echoed the sound. Her own voice tortured.
A sign.
Or close enough.
Wren jumped into action. It was what she did best. She fisted Amanda’s hair and tilted her head back.
Amanda’s lips parted. Wren kissed her like it was a question that Wren longed for Amanda to answer.
Amanda melted with a shaky breath as Wren feathered kisses along the seam of Amanda’s mouth until she reached the middle of her plump bottom lip. Wren sucked gently, trying to get a small taste without pushing too hard.
