I rub the back of my neck. “Becca, I want to. Believe me, I want to. But you’re dr—”
With a surprising amount of strength I didn’t realize she had, she yanks me forward, and I fall onto her bed.
She pulls my arm around her waist and maneuvers so that I’m spooning her. “I’m drunk, but I still know what I want. And I wanna cuddle with you,” she murmurs into her pillow.
I can feel her relax against me. It takes a few seconds for me to process the shock of what is happening, but when I do, I start to relax. I can’t deny it—cuddling with Becca in bed feels really, really good. Closing my eyes, I savor the warmth of her body, how soft her skin feels against mine.
So damn soft.
“You should take those off,” she says, patting my jeans. “It’s way more comfortable to cuddle in your undies. I would know.” She giggles.
I laugh. God, I adore her. I do what she says and slip out of my jeans, leaving me in just boxers and a T-shirt. After I wrap my arms back around her, it’s not even a minute before her breathing turns deep and steady. She’s asleep.
And something about that—something about how quickly she was able to relax with me—hits deep. Becca feels comfortable enough to invite me into her bed, to fall asleep pressed against me.
My heart rams against my ribcage. Fuck, holding her feels incredible.
It’s not long before I start to feel tired. Before I know it, I’m fast asleep.
Chapter18
Becca
When I wake up, I’m smiling. Eyes closed, I let out a soft chuckle. This doesn’t happen often. I can’t remember the last time I woke up with a grin on my face.
But it’s probably because I feel so well-rested and cozy and warm. I hum softly into my pillow, pulling my comforter tighter around me.
I won’t be able to fall back to sleep, but that doesn’t stop me from keeping my eyes closed, relishing this cozy moment. I don’t even have a headache despite how much I drank last night.
Last night.
My eyes fly open as I remember what happened.
Heading to that champagne bar with Gage…running into Ben and his new girlfriend…feeling hurt and angry at how he refused to admit how he wronged me…dragging Gage to the nearest dive bar so I could down enough alcohol to forget that jerkoff Ben…
Gage.
I go warm and fuzzy at the memory of him carrying me home over his shoulder and how doting and caring he was as he cooked for me and made me drink water and aspirin to avoid that godawful hangover headache.
And then my stomach flips when I remember undressing in front of him and pulling him into bed with me.
I hear the soft sound of snoring behind me. I twist my head around and see Gage sleeping soundly next to me, a respectable few inches between us.
I turn slowly away, cupping my hand over my mouth. I press my eyes shut, but that grin pulls at my mouth once more.
Gage is in bed. With me.
Like a perfectly timed highlight reel, I think back to the moment we both hit my bed and how good his massive, muscled arms felt around me, how I sank into his firm body, how cuddling him felt so natural, so easy.
Yeah, I should probably feel embarrassed at how I acted last night. And I am, a little. When I get drunk and I’m around someone I like, I tend to get very touchy-feely. But drunk me managed to do something that sober me has wanted to do but didn’t have the guts to do: get close to Gage.
I press my eyes shut as that telltale ache pulses between my legs. Crap. Hangover horn. I should have known it was coming.
Thankfully, due to the aspirin Gage had me take last night, I’ve been able to skip the hangover headache. But I’m not able to skip the horniness that follows me the morning after a night of heavy drinking.
I feel Gage stirring behind me. Slowly, I turn over to face him right as he opens his eyes. He blinks a few times, his rich brown eyes swollen from sleep. His hair is mussed, and the scruff along his jawline somehow looks even sexier in the morning.
The corner of his mouth hooks up. “Morning.”
