Work In Progress (Red Lipstick Coalition #3) - Staci Hart Page 0,92

I mumbled.

He chuckled and pressed a brief kiss to my lips. “What do you want to do now?”

“Sleep for a year.”

Another chuckle. “I think we can manage that. Still want me to sleep in here?”

A shock of doubt sobered me. “U-unless you don’t want to.”

His arms tightened around me. “Oh, I want to. The very last thing I want to do is go sleep alone with you right here, so close.”

“Well, you wouldn’t exactly be alone. You’ve got Gus.”

“Please, he’s the king of bed hogs. Plus, he snores.”

“How do you know I don’t snore?” I asked on a laugh.

“Don’t you know? I sneak in here and watch you sleep like that creepy vampire in Twilight.” I must have looked freaked out because he added, “I’m kidding, Melia.”

I sighed, relaxing. I hadn’t even realized I’d locked up.

He kissed my nose. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth. Be right back.”

With one more kiss, this one deep and pressing, he let me go and slid out of my bed.

It wasn’t until his gorgeous back disappeared through my doorframe that I remembered I was completely naked.

I hurried out of bed, trying not to feel ashamed. I didn’t know why—I wasn’t particularly prude about nudity. I supposed I just hadn’t been exposed to enough.

I snorted a laugh. I was plenty exposed now.

Into my closet I slipped, snagging a pair of pajamas that I clutched to my chest as I headed for my bathroom.

My reflection stopped me.

I barely recognized myself, a pale visage in the mirror, holding her pajamas over her breasts. It was that girl again, the one I’d seen before. The one married to Tommy. The beautiful girl with tousled hair and swollen lips, with long lashes and sparkling eyes.

I lowered my hands and looked at my body. Narrow shoulders. Small breasts, round and tipped with dusky pink. Notch of a waist, stomach soft in that feminine way, without definition, the curve under my belly gentle.

Who was this girl? I knew her, but not like the twin I’d thought she was. I knew her like a distant cousin, far off and largely unknown to me.

But I wanted to know her better. I wanted to be her.

No, I wanted her to be me. And I realized then that those two things weren’t quite the same.

With a sigh, I cleaned myself up, washed my face and brushed my teeth, pulled on my pajamas and twisted up my hair. The reflection I saw on my way out was far more familiar, and I sighed, not quite sure how I felt about that.

I padded toward my room, stopping dead when I caught sight of Tommy.

He stood next to my bed with his back to me, arms stretched over his head and a yawn on his lips. His back was comprised of rolls and ridges like sand under a receding wave, his dark hair licking at his shoulders.

All he had on was a pair of black boxer briefs that hugged his ass like half the women in Manhattan would like to, present company included.

I swallowed hard and told my feet to move, which they did, carrying me toward the bed. Tommy turned when he saw me, that devastating smile on his face.

“Cupcake jammies? Color me jealous.”

I glanced down, instantly regretting my choice. Not like I had anything sexier to wear. I tugged the hem of my shirt before crawling into bed opposite him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, climbing in next to me. His body slid toward mine under the cool sheets, the heat of him reaching me first. “I could eat you up.”

Before I could make a joke, he kissed me. We wound together like stripes on a candy cane.

He was like a furnace, heat radiating from him and across my skin, into my veins, firing up the space between my ribs like a wood-burning stove. When he broke away, I could feel the flush all over my body.

He smiled down at me, his face cast in shadows from the lamp behind him. “I hope you sleep well.”

And as I curled up in his arms, I said that I would, knowing with absolute certainty it was going to be the best night’s sleep of my life.

The Gauntlet

Amelia

It was the worst night’s sleep of my life.

Sleep had found me in sporadic bursts through the night. Because Tommy was hot. Hot as hell. Hot as a fucking oven in August.

Temperature-wise, too.

When I woke, I lay starfished on top of him, my flannel pants kicked off in the night and my