Wendy Watson's eyes tried to twitch open, and she squeezed them shut against what she might see. Her legs bent up around a male body and she sighed as he shifted on top of her. His shoulders in her arms lowered and his face brushed her chest, then he was back in the same place but more comfortably. He was warm and good heavy. She smiled and touched the slightly curled ends of his hair.
Her dream had been about him, something normal and comforting. He had been across the room doing his own thing. Her back had been to him, but he looked at her and she turned around and felt incredible. The urge to paint him again was strong, and she wondered if she'd have a whole series of him. She wondered if he'd pose for her.
It didn't get old. She could sit in silence with him, stupid jokes the last thing on her mind. She could go on that Alaskan cruise her mother had mentioned if she could bring him. He would love that and she would love watching him have a vacation.
His hand cupped her head and she tilted back for a kiss. Morning breath was not an issue. She didn't even think he had morning breath at all. His lips pressed on her cheek first, honest affection always first before sex. He sighed happily. His weight between her legs was getting a little heavier and hotter.
“I love you,” she mumbled.
He rumbled an agreement, his lips surrounding her upper lip to wet it. His tongue led the way into her mouth, which was hungrily open for him. She moved her arms to fit under his and hold him closer, and the watch went off with a raucous squall.
“Red . . . ball,” she moaned. “Damn it.”
He hooked his thumbs under her panties and she went still. “Hey, red ball. We can't.”
She looked up at him with irritation and a sense of fear. He was duty. That was the core of his soul. Tyler looked down at her with sadness.
“Okay, Dub-Dub, off to work. Jeez, you high-powered temps really break a guy's heart,” he joked.
She exhaled and wiggled to tell him to let her up. Not yet she hadn't. Soon she would.