Play With Me

aware
of the entangled position Ryan and I had taken on in our sleep. Lying on my
right, my left leg was slung over his hip. My calf rested neatly on his groin.
He lay on his back, his left leg bent so, that I wouldn’t be able to withdraw
mine. I tried to stop my body from shivering. No chance.
    Not daring to
wake him, I didn’t move, frantically running through the options I had. Great,
there were none. I was trapped.
    Maybe if I lay
still, pretending to be fast asleep, until he woke up and got out of bed first,
then I could sneak out after him and be gone before he noticed. I would have
slapped myself for that idea if I could remove my hand from his warm chest.
    And a firm chest
it was. He must lift weights besides playing soccer. As if my eyes had their
own mind, they traveled down his gorgeous body. A thin trail of dark hair led
south from his navel over his flat stomach until it vanished under the
waistband of his jeans. His bent leg seemed amazingly long. I never paid
attention, but he must be more than a head taller than me.
    My gaze swept up
to his neck and the part of his face not covered with his arm. A lean jaw and a
perfect, straight nose. He sported an overnight shadow that begged to be rubbed.
I resisted. Under his left ear was an old scar, about an inch long. One would
never notice unless close to him, like I was now.
    Suddenly his
lips twitched.
    “I can feel you
staring at me,” he said in the softest wake-up voice I’d ever heard. “I only
hope you’re a girl and not one of the drunken guys.”
    My breath caught
in my chest. I jerked my hand back from him. Not taking his arm away from his
face yet, he reached down with his other hand. And slowly ran his palm over my
naked thigh in the direction of my bum.
    “Yep, definitely
female,” he purred.
    In panic, I held
his hand in place. “Move another inch, Hunter, and you’re a dead man.”
    “Matthews?” Surprised
amusement filled his chuckle. Unlike me, he seemed relaxed enough.
    A strange heat
rose from my gut to my head as I studied his hand on my bare skin. Wearing
nothing but jeans and a black wrist watch, he looked more like a guy from the
many posters on the walls of Caroline Davis’ bedroom than the boy I knew from
school.
    I felt awkward
for not letting go of his hand on my leg, but I was too scared he’d continue
the path he’d started if I did.
    “Tell me,
Matthews,” he said as he dropped his arm to the pillow and tilted his head to study
me with warm eyes. “Why do I have you in my bed, when I’m not allowed to touch
you?”
    “I didn’t know
there were strawberries in the soda,” I whined.
    His brows
furrowed, his lips pursed. “Come again?”
    Jeez, did he not
realize that he was still holding my leg, and how very uncomfortable—and excited—it
made me? “Someone was getting me sweet soda all evening.” My voice shook
slightly. “I didn’t realize it was the wine cooler you meant when you said—”
    “—not to touch
the strawberries,” he finished for me, closing his eyes. “Damn, I told her not
to punch it too much.”
    What? The wine
cooler? I was pretty sure I had a tad too much of that stuff.
    A frown creased Ryan’s
brows as he looked at me again. “Sorry, I don’t remember much of the night
after I carried you up here. Am I in trouble?”
    Considering I
still had my clothes on, nothing had happened during the night. “As far as I
remember you were pretty drunk yourself. So I was quite safe from you.”
    A smirk played
around one corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid my time of numb indifference is
over.” His thumb had started drawing small circles on my skin. “So, unless
you’re up for some trouble now , would you mind moving your leg?”
    My eyes widened
at his seductive threat.
    “What? You know
you’re not the ugliest girl in the world.”
    Wow, what a
compliment. Idiot. I needed to get out of here. Back to…back to… Damn, Ryan had a nice smile.
    I shoved that
thought away and let go of his hand, then pushed his leg down so I could remove
mine from his groin. I was out of his bed faster than the transatlantic. But
the aftermath of drinking hit me harder than I had expected. The floor rushed
to me or I did, I couldn’t tell which.
    His hands cupped
my elbows, and he steadied me before I was going to fall. He waited until my
gaze locked with his. “Feel better?”
    “Not really.” I
tried to find my shoes. They lay at the end of the bed, and I wiggled out of
his hold to put them