Page 90 of Hate At First Sight

“I’m tired. Seriously.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you get so cranky in the morning.”

“I get cranky when I don’t get my sleep.”

Jack steps toward me until he’s standing right at my beside. He cradles my cheek. “Indy. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

My body heats at his touch. I hate that he has such a way with me.

“No, Jack, come on. I’ll go next year.”

He laughs. “You’ll be here next year?”

“Maybe I’ll come back.”

He shakes his head and takes the sheet away.

“Jack. Come on now. That’s not nice.”

“When did I ever say I was nice?”

Damn. Got me there.

“Jack, just…”

He runs his hand down my thigh slowly, nimbly, deeply, making my heart flutter.

My eyes land on the well-endowed visual right in front of my face.

“Come on, Indy,” he whispers, softer and sweeter this time. “I’m not being mean. I know you’re tired. I am too. But this is really something you’ll regret if you don’t see it.”

As exhausted as I am, and as much as I’d love to catch a few more hours of Z’s before yoga today, soft Jack is my freaking kryptonite.

“Here,” he says, getting into bed behind me. “I’ll cuddle you for a few minutes and then let’s go. Deal?”

Without waiting for me to confirm, he slides behind me close to the wall so all I can see is Jansen, passed out.

My mouth spreads mindlessly into a smile as his finger drags down the length of my spine, and back up, underneath the baggy t shirt I’m wearing.

“Fuck me, Indy, cut it out.”

“Cut what out?”

“You’re wiggling your ass into me and it’s making me hard.”

“Am not,” I giggle, wiggling more into him.

“Indy…” he groans against my neck.

“You know what happens to naughty girls.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

I feel his hand on my ass, sliding my panties down my thighs.

“They get fucked with a big dick.”

I feel my insides flip.

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