Fall Hard (Dating Season Book 3) by Laurelin Paige & Kayti McGee

Author:Laurelin Paige & Kayti McGee [Paige, Laurelin & McGee, Kayti]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781953520449
Publisher: Paige Press, LLC
Published: 2021-05-30T18:30:00+00:00

Eight

It can’t be good that I’m still high? What is good, however, is waking up next to Ryan. Well, it’s not really next to him so much as suffocating underneath his octopus body. I’m trapped.

Rays of morning sunlight assault me when I lift the heavy arm slung over my head and take a deep breath. The sliver of space I occupy confirms Ryan is a bed hog, but how nice he wanted the sleepover, unlike Dune.

It takes me a few minutes to extricate myself from beneath his deadweight without waking him. When I do, I roll over to ogle his beautiful face and listen as he snores. Mainly, because I have no choice. Not to snore-shame, but all of Colorado can probably hear the bone-jarring rumble followed by a tongue-flapping gasp. The strip on his nose is useless. I’ve spent most of the night awake, hovering between thinking the roar coming from Ryan was dinosaurs attacking the city and drifting in and out of sleep.

I nudge him out of fear he’ll swallow his tongue.

“Unf,” he mumbles. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

One eyelid opens. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in forever. How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy.” Literally. But I don’t seem to envision myself as a teddy bear as I feared, so that’s good. Must mean the effects are finally wearing off to a manageable level.

“Still? You must be supersensitive. It happens sometimes. Orange juice high.”

“Orange juice high?”

“You know what, we can save that particular breakfast-body story for later, Bacon.

When I laugh, he pulls me closer. “Last night was really amazing. You sliding through that paint...man.”

I glance over at the canvas propped against the wall of his bedroom. If I didn’t know what it was, I’d never guess the splatters and smears are my breasts and nipples.

“It was phenomenal.” I kiss his nose. The internet experts stressed an important part of a sleepover is to not overstay your welcome lest you make your potential partner feel crowded so I segue to, “I guess I should head home.” Besides, I’m ravenous. After we cleaned up the mess last night and showered, Ryan made sandwiches, but I accidentally fell asleep before he finished.

“Why?” He ghosts his foot along my leg. “Stay the day.”

“My clothes are kind of ruined.” After art sex, I mistook them for a towel and used them to wipe the paint off me.

“My ex left some stuff in the closet. You’re about the same size. Pick something out.”

“Oh, okay.” If only my brain wasn’t filled with fog so I could explore why he still has an ex’s clothes two years later, but alas, I’m too chill to care.

Ryan’s phone rings from atop the nightstand and he rolls over to check it. “Sorry, it’s a client. I have to take this.”

“No worries.”

To give him privacy, I kick back the covers and shuffle to the closet. Hanging in the closet’s corner is a hodgepodge of women’s clothing. Five minutes later, I’m dressed in a pink and gray flannel and joggers. Is it weird I’m wearing his ex-girlfriend’s clothes? It’s so darn weird, but beggars can’t be choosers.

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