Untethered

15 | Kiss an Imp Good Morning

By the time Emma finally stirred, it was after noon, and her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls and gauze during a visit to the dentist after being attacked too enthusiastically with the little suction wand. Without opening her eyes, she swiped at the puddle of sticky wetness plastering her cheek to her arm.

Ugh, that explains it.

Sunlight was beating into the room with an intensity that was making the sheets cling to her body. As tired as she was, discomfort was tugging her into wakefulness. Silently, she prayed for a cool breeze so she could sink back into that blissful oblivion, but it didn't come. Normally, she'd have at least one leg sticking out of the blankets. But this morning, she was bundled up tight, and it was making her claustrophobic. She began to have an inkling what a steamed dumpling at Golden Dragon Dim Sum Restaurant felt like.

She lay there for a few more moments trying to wake up, like a scuba diver trying to resurface after a big dive. She had slept hard. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the couch, with Layla draped over her feet. Abruptly it occurred to her that this did not feel like the couch. Experimentally, she squinted her eyes open. Wiping the crustiness of sleep out of them, she groaned at the brightness. Slamming her eyelids shut again, her head dropped heavily back onto the pillow.

I am so not a morning person.

From behind her, came a sound. A very, very masculine sound. A sound that she was certain she should not be hearing. Her body went rigid and she tried to turn over, realizing a few things at that moment. Numbers one and two, she was in a bed and it wasn't hers. Numbers three and four, something very heavy was pinning her to the bed, and it did not feel anything like a furry golden retriever. It was much harder, much warmer, and much less furry. Slight panic set in at the last realization, and she tried to jerk her body free so she could turn around.

Instead of releasing her, the thing constricted around her tighter. Hot breath tickled her neck, and then a voice vibrated the shell of her ear. A very deep, very gruff, very sexy voice.

"Em, you really need to stop moving."

Realization number five. There was something—that she refused to give too much thought to—pressing into the small of her back. Something hot and firm and... dammit, stop it!

"Ryan? Ryan, what the heck?"

"Shhhh, be quiet, I'm tryin' to sleep," he said in that same sexy, sleepy masculine voice.

She elbowed him in the ribs, hard. The "oomph" that was expelled from him was satisfying, and gave her the opportunity to wriggle out of the death hold he had her in. Sitting up, she spun toward him. The sharp words she was about to fling at him, died on her lips. Her tongue flicked out to lick them, and she was reminded that it wouldn't do any good—her mouth was still bone dry.

He was... well, he was really freaking sexy. His eyes were still closed, despite her escape attempt. Realization number six: all she could see was his bare muscled torso and long, muscled bare legs, with just a narrow strip of the sheet covering his midsection. Is he naked? She started to scoot further away, and realized that the sheets were tangled around her, and were slowly pulling away from him. Quickly she stopped, because realization number seven was that she was pretty close to finding out the answer to her question. She stared at him for a moment longer, and then smacked his chest hard.

"Ryan, wake up! Are you naked?"

A lazy grin spread across his face, his eyes were still closed.

"Come find out."

She hit him again, harder this time, and he rolled to his side, grabbing her—bundle of blankets and all—ignoring her protests. Pulling her flush with his body, he nuzzled into her neck, and smiled against her skin when he felt her quiver.