Dream Maker - Kristen Ashley Page 0,81

heart in the wrong direction and hooked up with O.J. Simpson.

Christ.

Christ.

And as she stood across from him, staring back, not speaking, he knew he’d really blown it by letting his fucked-up lack of control get the better of him.

Again.

She’d already seen it once that day.

Christ.

That was, he knew that until she asked, “Do you have a TV in your room?”

His chin jerked into his neck.

“Say again?”

“Well, I’m not about to get carried away in shenanigans that might tear your stitches, but you’d promised alternate sleeping arrangements tonight and I don’t want to be alone, I want to be with you. I also want you to lie your ass down and get some rest. So, do you have a TV in your room?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Right then, I’m gonna go put my pajamas on and you are not going to take that shirt off without me helping so don’t even think about it. I’ll do your boots and socks too. But you can do your jeans. And I hope you have ice cream, because I was too stuffed for sopapillas, but now I need something sweet, and I want ice cream.”

After delivering that, she walked to the island, took the shot he’d poured her, downed it, then turned and strutted away, aiming words for him toward the room she was heading to.

“Be out in a minute.” She stopped in the doorway and looked back to him. “And if you clean up that Fireball, I’m sleeping in here.”

“I made the mess, I’ll—”

“Shut up, Danny,” she ordered quietly.

He shut up.

“Do you have ice cream?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Good, honey,” she muttered, then disappeared into Mo’s room.

Mag stared at the empty doorway a beat.

Then his head dropped, and he stared at his boots.

He pulled his shit together, put her shot glass in the sink, the Fireball in the freezer and walked to his room.

He had the bedside lights lit and the TV on low and was sitting on the side of his bed, toeing off his boots when she walked in wearing another pair of shorts and a cami, these in a swirly pink and green pattern.

She stopped in front of him and put her hands on her hips, her eyes surveying his thermal.

She then decreed, “We’re either gonna have to stretch the neck of that beyond recognition or cut it off.”

He picked door number one.

“No scissors, honey, this is my second-favorite Henley. Don’t make me shoulder that blow. I already lost my favorite one today to a bullet.”

One side of her lips twitched, and she clicked her teeth.

Clicked her frickin’ teeth.

Fucking hell.

Was he going to laugh?

She approached.

And no.

He was not going to laugh.

Because somehow, even after them going at each other in his kitchen three mornings in a row, she was entirely unaware of the effect she had on his cock.

Especially when he could see her acres of legs.

He knew this when he couldn’t see her legs, but he had a close-up of her tits since they were in his face seeing as she was up close and personal, clicking off his sling.

“Baby?” he called, his voice tight for two reasons, amusement and his effort to fight his dick getting hard.

“Yeah?” she answered.

“You don’t want me to tear my stitches, it’d be good you got your tits out of my face, ’cause if you don’t, things are about to get the good kind of physical.”

She hopped back.

He grinned up at her, and since she’d unclipped it, he slid the sling off his arm.

“You’re aware I wanna fuck you,” he noted, feeling his own lips hitch as he did.

“Uh…yeah.”

“Well, that’s because you’re cute. And it’s because you’re a dork. It’s also because your heart’s way too big for your own good. But just sayin’, it also has a lot to do with the fact you got mile-long legs, a great ass, perky tits, a lot of hair and you’re pretty as fuck and all of that is standing in my bedroom right now.”

“Right,” she mumbled, her cheeks coloring.

He stood, which brought him up close and personal again, but in a way he could control his reaction, and he cupped her jaw, tilting her head up so he had her eyes.

“I want you at my side tonight too,” he told her. “We’ll watch TV. We’ll sleep. That’s it. I got some pain, and after ice cream, I’m gonna take a pill to control it that’ll probably put me out. So, we’re not goin’ there tonight. We’re not goin’ there until I can make it be what

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