Page 59 of Wish I Might
He shucked off his clothes, tossed them at the corner he’d designated for laundry waiting to be done, and crawled into bed in his boxers.Lying in the cool, quiet dark, with the faint hum of the air conditioning the only noise, he willed himself to sleep.
Chapter Eight
He woke in the night with a jolt, distracted and groggy.Something had jerked him out of sleep, and it was several seconds before he realized what it was.The air felt hot, like a warm, wet blanket, and it was quiet.Too quiet.
The air conditioning was off.
Still half asleep, he fought his way clear of the sheet and swung his feet to the floor.He took a second to orient himself, then pushed to his feet and headed for the dresser, and the oscillating fan on top of it.
And promptly ran into Bailey.
She grunted when they made contact, a quiet and somehow annoyedoof, her boobs bouncing into his chest and her belly against his dick, still half hard from his Bailey-centric dreams.His hands came up, an automatic response to the collision, to close over her bare shoulders.
“What the fuck, Nash?”
Her voice was husky with sleep, sharp with irritation, her breath warm against his throat.He tightened his grip, just for a moment, fantasizing about dragging her closer and losing himself in those soft, supple curves.
Then he let go.
“Sorry,” he said, taking a step back so her boobs were no longer nestled against his chest and her belly no longer cradled his dick.“You okay?”
“The air conditioning is out.”
“I know.”Not wanting to have this conversation in the dark, he moved to the bedside lamp and switched it on.Blinking against the glare, he turned back to her.
She was wearing sleep shorts and a loose tank and a grumpy expression as she lifted a hand to shield against the light.“Shit, Nash, give me some warning.”
“Sorry,” he said, and tried to ignore the shift of her boobs under the tank when she lifted her hand.She was clearly braless, a fact that wasn’t helping the situation in his shorts calm down.
“When did it go out?”
“I don’t know,” he said.“I just woke up.”
“Me, too.It gets hot fast upstairs without the AC.”She lowered her hand to look at him.“I don’t suppose you know how to fix it.”
He shook his head.“Do you have someone you can call?”
“I have a service contract with the company that installed it, but I doubt they’ll come out at…” She peered past him to the bedside clock.“Two-thirty-four in the morning.”
“They might, if you paid them enough.”
She snorted.“I do not have middle-of-the-night-HVAC-repair money.”
“Who does?”
She snorted again, then sighed.“Okay, I guess I’m sleeping on the couch.Sorry I bothered you.”
“It’s fine,” he said, then because he was apparently a glutton for punishment, added, “You can sleep in here.”
She paused in the doorway, half turned away, her tits in tantalizing profile.Because that was the kind of luck he was having tonight.
Ignoring them, he kept his eyes on her face.“Just to sleep,” he clarified.“I’ve got the fan, and the bed’s got to be more comfortable than the couch.”
“It’s a pretty good nap couch,” she argued, but the longing glance she flicked at his bed spoke volumes.
“Take the bed,” he said, then stepped to the dresser to turn on the fan.It whirled to life, blasting out air and cutting through the heat in the room.The difference was immediate, and palpable.
“Just to sleep?”
