I hold my breath, trying not to move a single muscle. Will he go back to sleep, or is Ford an early riser? Something tells me it’s the latter more than the former. I imagine in the army, there isn’t a lot of mornings for sleeping in.
Speaking of rising, I can now confirm he has…risen. Oh my God, his erection is pressed against my leg, hard and long and begging to be played with. I, of course, hold completely still, waiting for the moment he finally fully wakes. I can tell the moment he does, because he jerks, his entire body rigid with surprise.
I have no time to figure out how I’m going to play this. His deep, husky-with-sleep voice whispers, “Shayne?”
My reply comes out as a nervous squeak. “Yes?”
He relaxes finally, pulling me into his chest even closer, his arm wrapping around my shoulders and holding me tight. “Morning,” he murmurs, getting all snuggly comfortable against my tense body.
“Hi,” I croak, my throat Sahara-dry.
Just as I start to feel my tight muscles relax once more, he jumps, pulling his arm out from under my neck. “Shit, your cousin. Cassie,” he states, his green eyes wide as he searches the room.
I can’t help but chuckle. “I don’t think she’s hiding in here, so no worries.”
Ford turns his worried gaze to me. “Oh, yeah. I meant, you know, she was supposed to stay here last night. With you.”
I shrug and stretch. With the action, his eyes drop to where my jean-covered leg slides along the quilt. “After you talked to Chad, she sent a text saying she was staying at her parents’ house.”
“Oh,” he replies, sagging with relief. “That’s good, though probably not for her since most of her stuff is here, right?”
“She has things there too,” I insist, a blush creeping up my neck at the way he’s watching me.
Ford lies back down, turning on his side to face me. “So, what are your plans today?”
“I work four to nine.”
“Hmm, Chad mentioned there’s a bonfire tonight somewhere close by, someone’s farm? Why don’t you come after you get off work?” he asks, a glint of hope in those green orbs.
But I’m unable to enjoy that glimmer in his eyes, not when he mentions the Stetson farm. “Oh, uh…” I start, unable to come up with an excuse. I don’t want to tell him I’m not a fan of hanging out with those my own age.
“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want. I just thought it might be a great way to hang out a little more. I’m only here for two more nights,” he says, sadness creeping into his words and hanging between us like a heavy cloak.
I swallow hard. The thought of him leaving on Wednesday makes me sadder than I ever thought possible, but why? I barely know him. We’ve been on exactly one date. Granted, he spent the night, but it wasn’t like that. There was cuddling, and that’s it. I mean, we haven’t even kissed.
Yet.
“I have an idea,” he says, sitting back up and stretching his arms over his head. The hem of his shirt creeps up, exposing a little sliver of bare stomach. That tiny peek of skin is enough to heat up my body like I stepped into a sauna on a July afternoon. “I need to take your aunt’s car back to her, and I’m sure there’s somewhere to grab some food on the way. Why don’t we go eat some breakfast before I take the car back?” He leans forward and swipes a strand of hair off my forehead, letting his fingers linger just a touch.
“Okay,” I reply, touching the back of my head. “Though, I should probably shower. I’m sure I resemble a raccoon right now,” I add, realizing I didn’t wash the eye makeup off my face before I fell asleep.
Ford blows out a puff of air. His eyes dance across my face, taking in my appearance. I’m sure I look a fright. No way can black smudgy eyes and morning breath be sexy this early. “You look beautiful.”
I want to argue, to insist I’m the exact opposite of beautiful, but the honesty and sincerity in his gaze has my mouth wired shut. “Do I have time to throw my hair up in a ponytail and hat?”
“Of course,” he says, tossing his legs over the edge of the bed and turning to extend his hand. I don’t need his help to get up, but I’m not about to miss the opportunity to touch him, even if it’s just with our hands and only for a few seconds.
“Do you mind if I use a touch of your toothpaste?” he asks, running a hand through his short hair.
“Actually, I can do you one better.” I move across the hall to the small bathroom. I open up the bottom drawer, pull a spare toothbrush out, and hand it over. “I keep a few in here in case Cass shows up on a weekend and doesn’t have one.”