“You do?” I ask. It wouldn’t shock me if she lightly slapped me and laughed like it was a joke and she was kidding all along.
“Mmhmm,” she breathes sleepily through her nose and nuzzles against the fabric of my shirt. My skin is going to melt off if she pushes her hips against my leg again like that. “But you’re going to get sick too now since we’re touching.”
“Don’t care.”
“I like—” she says through a yawn. Her hand trails up the middle of my abs and lands just above my belly button, “you.”
Not even a second later, she’s softly snoring.
My arm around her tightens while I stare up at the ceiling with a face-splitting grin.
“About time, Savvy girl.”
22
SAVANNAH
“Should we wait on him?” an amused voice whispers.
My eyes are already closed, but I scrunch them together harder to will myself back to sleep. The blazing migraine that is currently splitting my brain in two is hallucinating voices and I’d very much like to go back to my cave of silent darkness for a little longer.
“We’re supposed to be there by seven,” a different voice whispers.
“He looks a little preoccupied,” the first voice chuckles.
“Kick his foot.”
“You do it.”
Okay, those voices sound closer and more real than I thought they were. I don’t think I’m imagining things. Slowly, I open one eye halfway. The world is blurry at first, so I blink a few times.
A few pairs of jean-clad legs stand directly in my line of sight. My head lifts slightly and when I look up, two men who seem freakishly large from this angle are staring down at me.
What the hell?
“Mornin’, sunshine,” the happier-looking one croons.
My vision is still spotty as I fight to come out of my deep sleep, rubbing the corners of my eyes. One of them pulls the brim of his cowboy hat down and smiles in a way that I finally recognize. What is Tripp doing in my room? The other guy looks like someone already ruined his day, but judging by the lack of light coming in through the window behind them, the sun’s not even up. That’d be Heston.
I close my eyes again and groan from the pain lancing through my head. When I try to move to sit up though, I’m pinned down.
“Go away,” a deep gravelly voice behind me mumbles.
The sensation of lips and breath against my neck sends a shiver through my entire body. I screech and launch myself upright as quickly as I can when I recognize it as Warren’s voice. His lips on my skin. His arms around me.
“What the hell is—” I scramble for words, looking around to find myself not in my room at all, but on a couch in the bunkhouse living room with Warren while Tripp and Heston look down at us.
My memory is slow and fuzzy, and I have never felt a headache this paralyzing. But slowly, the events from last night start to come back to me. With a groan, I close my eyes again and stretch my tight back muscles that weren’t graced with a mattress last night.
“What time is it?” Warren asks. The couch cushion shifts underneath us as he sits up next to me.
“Time to go,” Heston growls. “You told us not to be late, so get your ass up.”
Tripp and Heston exchange looks—one of amusement and the other of annoyance—and leave the living room.
While I rub my temples with my thumb and forefinger trying to ease the throbbing pain, Warren’s hand slips under my arm and around my waist to pull me back until I’m pressed againsthis front. It feels nice to lean against him because another minute of sitting up on my own and I think I might have fallen over. His other hand moves my hair off to one side as he leans in to press his lips against the shell of my ear.
“Why are we on the couch?” I ask while tilting my head to the side to give him better access.
