This Little Whatever by Nicole Forcine

Author:Nicole Forcine [Forcine, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

MORNING came soft and quiet, warm sunlight, soft mattress, smooth sheets, hot body pressed all around me and moving. A hand, gliding up and down my back, smoothing down my hair, gentle pets that slowly brought me out of some of the best sleep I’d had in a while.

No, I didn’t want to leave this dream. It felt too good and real. I could even smell Dean, feel that hand that could almost be his, big and strong. The touch was gentle, teasing, exploring, running through my hair and then moving down to cup my ass.

The hand squeezed, and I tensed, ready to fight to keep the dream for a few seconds longer. “Patch, let me sleep, jackass.”

“Wrong guy.”

My eyes popped open, and all I could see was the pale shoulder that I used as a pillow. Either I was having a very vivid lucid dream, or I’d just called my bed partner by the wrong damned name. And there were no stitch tattoos anywhere on that shoulder. Oh shit.

“Nope,” I murmured, my face getting annoyingly warm, hiding in that neck, soaking up some warmth before I ended up getting tossed out for my faux pas. “Right guy. Wrong name, but definitely the right guy.”

The hand on my ass squeezed even tighter, drawing me closer to his side. That was as good as saying he forgave me. “Still want me to let you sleep?”

Let’s see, go back to sleep and dream of being snuggled against Dean, or stay awake and enjoy the real thing. No contest. “Nope. Where’s my good-morning kiss?”

My reward was one hell of a good-morning kiss. Dean grabbed my ass with both hands and hauled me up and onto him, our lips smashed together. It was slow and sweet and hungry, our tongues tangled together like our legs. We rocked against each other, and I spread my legs wider to straddle and grind my groin into his. I think it had to be the fastest I’ve gone from sleepy to horny to ready to be mounted and stuffed.

“Shit, baby,” I moaned against his lips when we finally pulled apart. I found the bruises I left on him the night before and revisited each one with a kiss. “When you said breakfast, I thought you meant food.”

“I did, but you were so hard up against me, and I’d be a bad host if I left you like that.”

His hands gripped my hair lightly, enough to bring my head back up for a bunch of light, teasing kisses all over my lips and cheeks and nose. This was a hell of a lot better than my dream, and no one else needed to know that I just relaxed and enjoyed it. “So far, you’re being a damned good host.”

Dean chuckled, tilting us to the side and rolling over until I was on my back under him again, pressing down on me with all that sweet weight to the point that I could have melted into the mattress. He rumbled into my ear, “A good host takes care of his guests.

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