“Why are you here?” I asked, torn between letting him in and escorting him to his room. The problem being I wasn’t sure exactly where he was staying, and it seemed like a bad idea to have him in my space.
He lurched heavily to the side, knocking his shoulder against the doorframe.
“Shit.” I ducked under his arm. God, he was heavier than I expected. As I tried to keep him upright, he curled his big body around me and dropped his face close to mine.
“You’re so pretty, Duckie.”
That nickname.
I pulled away, almost immediately lunging for him again as he overbalanced.
“Goddamn it, Cian. This is really unfair. You need to go to bed.”
He hummed.
Then he stepped into my room.
“You need to go toyourbed,” I stressed, tugging at his arm, which now seemed a hell of a lot steadier. Instead of listening to my very sound advice, he took a seat on my bed and pinned me with eyes that seemed a whole lot more focused all of a sudden.
“You disappeared again.”
“I—What?” I asked, unsure what had changed.
“You always disappear on me. I want you to stay.” He leaned back on his hands and became distracted by the feel of the bed covers. He kneaded the mattress, eyes focused on his fingers curling in the sheets, then flipped over and crawled up to the pillows.
“This is nice,” he muttered, curling on his side as he let out a heavy breath.
“Oh, hell no. You are not sleeping in here. Get out of my bed.”
The only answer was a soft snore.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I crawled up the bed, muttering about stupid drunk hockey players as I pushed at his huge, heavy as hell body. Why was he doing this?
I was sweating and breathing hard a few minutes later when I finally surrendered to the fact I was stuck with this beautiful, confusing, very passed out man in my bed for the foreseeable future. Pushing my curls out of my face with a frustrated hand, I studied his ridiculously long, dark lashes. His face relaxed in sleep, and it was only seeing him like this that made me realize the tension that had been in his features since we boarded the plane yesterday.
Something was on his mind, and as much as I told myself it wasn’t my business, I might… possibly… have wanted to make it my business? Maybe?
Despite my best efforts to keep him at arm’s length, Cian O’Leary had the kind of charisma that was difficult to resist. He made people want to be near him, and I was getting tired of resisting his charm.
Which was more dangerous than any interaction with my family.
They could hurt me.
Cian O’Leary had the ability to utterly destroy me.
Which was why I called myself every variant of idiot as I put my glasses on the nightstand and curled up beside him to try to get an hour or two of restless sleep.
* * *
An insistent beepingbroke through my dreamless sleep, and I groaned, silently willing it to shut the hell up. Christ, I was warm. Sweat slid down my back, and I wondered why the hotel had such heavy covers. The bed dipped, and I froze as something large and warm squeezed my breast. Flashes of the night before came back to me as my brain woke up. Something else was clearly awake, and as I tried to shift away from the hockey player wrapped around me, I felt it slide against my ass cheeks.
“Cian.”
With a sleepy grunt, he hooked his leg over my hip and pulled me more tightly against him. His hips ground lazily into my ass as he buried his face in the back of my neck. Goosebumps raced along my skin as his hot breath coasted over my ear. The small snuffling noises he made in his sleepy state were not cute. At all. Really.
Maybe I could let him sleep just a little longer.
My alarm chose that moment to voice its opinion, recommencing the beep beeping with every increasing volume until my bedmate came away with a rough curse. Without releasing his hold on me, he reached out a hand and silenced the beeping, then curled his body back around me.
