TanzieI wake up covered in a soft blanket. I must have fallen asleep reading, but I know I didn’t have a blanket when I sat down.
Grisham is asleep in the bed, sprawled across the mattress, big body taking up the whole thing. He’s got one arm splayed wide and one up, forearm over his eyes. I take in the muscles of his chest, the hair there. I ache to run my fingers through his thick, close-trimmed beard and his wavy, dark hair. His cheekbones could cut someone, and his lips are … oh god, so good.
I let out a wanting little groan and he stirs. He doesn’t open his eyes, just says, “Hey, baby, come to bed,” in a voice thick with sleep. He turns to his side and pats the bed, then starts to snore softly.
It nearly undoes me, seeing him look like this. I’m not stupid enough to think he knows
