James Bond for Breakfast: An AMBW Romantic Suspense (Brits and Brats Book 2) by Jorja Tabu

Author:Jorja Tabu
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Extreme canon twisting (aka FWC), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Persuasion - Jane Austen, Naughty Bits (aka PWP)
Published: 2024-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It was.

Ana laid in the dark, pretending to herself that her body would naturally adjust to the unfamiliar proximity of a very large, very masculine body next to her own and just… Shut down. She would stop counting his breaths, the long, slow exhale gently rocking the mattress up and down on the spindly springs holding it aloft; she would stop hearing the subtle movements that alerted her to the fact that he, too, was most likely still awake, even if he was apparently much more at peace lying next to her than she was lying next to him. Ana gritted her teeth, pulled her knees up to her chest so that she was roughly the shape of a ball, and mashed her eyelids shut. They needed sleep, lots of it. They needed to be in prime condition when the debriefing finally started and they had to defend what they’d been doing—and not doing, she thought suddenly, and stopped gritting her teeth to begin grinding them. They had not figured out who the mole was. This was Win’s big gamble, the whole reason he’d—why did she keep calling him Win, dammit, that was so long ago—and she was still awake, and—

“Ana.”

“What?” She wasn’t sure why she bothered whispering; they were obviously both awake.

“Stop grinding your teeth. It’s driving me mad.”

“You’re driving me mad,” she muttered.

“And if you insist on taking up two quarters of the bed, I will spoon you. This is your only warning.”

“I’m not—I most certainly—”

“Fine,” he huffed, easily rolling over and plopping a long arm over her waist. She shrugged it off, but he didn’t move; their bodies weren’t quite pressed against one another, in spite of his threat, but he was so close that she could feel his heat ripple over her skin. She started to inch away… And then didn’t.

What is wrong with me, she thought, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. She could see it, now, after what must have been an hour or fifteen of just laying here, awake; she may as well turn on a light. Before Ana could move, though, Win’s voice trickled across her shoulder and landed on her ear, the gentleness instantly stilling her entire body. “Is that what you wanted?” It wasn’t a taunt, even though it sounded like it should be; it was genuine, the kind of question someone asked when they were genuinely unsure of the answer, or the reception of their offering. “Did you want me to hold you?”

“No,” Ana murmured. Did she? She couldn’t sleep like that. She wouldn’t even know how to sleep like that. She’d never had the opportunity to try.

“I have a hard time sleeping alone,” he said softly. “But not… Not like that.”

“Exactly like that,” Ana said, the spell of his gentle voice broken instantly by the idea of him sleeping in a bed with another woman. Ever. She rolled onto her back, but he didn’t move; it took her just a second too long to realize that his breath was misting her shoulder, his face only inches away.

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