Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel) - By Kate Perry Page 0,11

it. She should have, right? There'd never been anything sexual between them. Ever.

Well, maybe once or twice when she was a teenager she'd wondered what it'd be like to be Grif's girlfriend. But that was a logical thing to wonder—they were around each other all the time, and she'd loved him. Of course she'd wonder.

Now at least she didn't have to wonder if he was a good kisser.

Groaning, she muffled her face in her pillow.

Half an hour later, she turned the light back on and reached for her sketchpad and colored pencils. Sometimes drawing helped calm her enough to fall asleep.

Propping herself up on her pillows, she flipped through the book, looking at the previous pages before coming to an empty page. Lately, she'd been drawing lingerie—her own designs based on what she'd seen women appreciate at the store and what she wished they carried. Romantic, sensual pieces that flattered women of all shapes and sizes.

She picked a red pencil out and began sketching, a sexy red number that she'd love to have for herself, the panties with a lush bow in the back that begged to be undone. She added straight brown hair to the model, a birthmark on her hip just like the one she had, and boots. Then, because it wasn't complete, she drew the shadow of a man in the background, with a cowboy hat on his head.

Nicole groaned and ripped the page out of her book. She intended to crumple it, but instead she tucked it under her pillow.

All this was Grif's fault, and he was sleeping peacefully in the other room, unaware of the torture she was going through. She shoved the covers aside. That was going to change. He wanted a muse? He was about to get one.

She pulled on yoga pants, a tank, and a long-sleeved shirt. Grabbing her puffy jacket, a scarf, and a wool cap, she stuffed her sketchpad, pencils, and an extra notepad in her bag and went to wake him up.

He was on the couch just like Susan had said, bare from the waist up except for a necklace around his neck. Nicole swallowed at the sight, her breath shallow, entranced by the shadowed ridges and the dark goody trail leading under the blanket.

Clearing her throat, she poked him with the tip of one finger. "Wake up."

He murmured and grabbed her hand, bring it to his heart and pulling her down on top of him.

She froze, struck by his warmth and the hard, naked feel of his chest. This wasn't the boy she'd known. He didn't even smell the same as he had when they were teenagers. She leaned down and sniffed. He smelled mysterious and sexy.

Then she really noticed the necklace he wore. Suspended on leather, it was the arrowhead she'd given him before he'd left to make his fortune.

She touched it with her fingertip. They'd been out, walking, talking about the future. He'd been so excited about a gig in Nashville to play with some musician she'd never heard of. She'd been torn between being happy for him and desolate for herself, and then she'd seen the arrowhead on their path. She'd dusted it off and given it to him, to remember her by. To protect him on his path.

He still had it.

She swallowed, not sure what to make of that.

One thing was sure: she needed to get off of him.

He shifted, and her hand brushed his skin. He felt warm—so warm she couldn't help letting her hands steal over his skin. Humming in his sleep, Grif rolled them over and slipped his leg between hers.

He was hard, and it was prominent.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt like she was getting away with something she wasn't entitled to, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It was enough that she managed not to press into his hard-on even more.

His hand smoothed over her hair, and his eyes fluttered open.

Embarrassed to be caught, she took the offensive. "Get off me."

"It seems like you're on me," he said in a sleep-husky voice, but he rolled her back over.

She scrambled off of him, falling on her butt on the floor.

Grif turned the light next to him on and leaned over the couch. "What are you doing, Nicole?"

"Waking you up." She hoisted herself up and straightened her clothes.

"I think you were successful," he said with a dry lilt of his lips, glancing down at the bulge the blanket didn't conceal.

She was not going there, no matter how much