Chapter 4
Griff didn’t sleep for s**t, knowing Sam was a mere armspan away on the other side of that ridiculous wall of pillows, wearing those itty bitty sleep shorts and a tank top that revealed way too much of her breasts. When he finally had dropped off—long after her whispered confession—it had been to dreams of peeling her out of that dress and giving in to every fantasy he’d ever had about her. There’d been a lot of them. He’d woken, hard and aching, to find her sleeping peacefully beside him, one arm draped over the pillow wall to rest on his chest, her hair spilled out like so much silk.
Sweet. Even in her sleep she was so damned sweet.
He’d wanted to roll into that gentle, unconscious touch. To tug her close and take his mouth on a slow, lingering journey over her skin, waking
