Free Overtime in the Boss's Bed by Nicola Marsh Page B

he was a goner. Just like that.
    Mentally uttering a string of creative curses, he opened his arms to her.
    ‘Scoot over.’
    She obliged, moving over to give him enough room to slide between the sheets, and as she snuggled into him, a tantalising armful of warm, almost naked woman, he tightened his arms around her, closed his eyes.
    It was going to be a long night.
     
    Starr struggled to consciousness, wishing she could slip back into blissful sleep. She’d been suffering insomnia lately, worrying about everything from finding a dance job to finding a permanent place to live, yet last night she’d crashed.
    With a relaxed sigh, she snuggled deeper into the covers, savouring the wonderful warmth cushioning her in a cocoon.
    Just a few more minutes and she’d get up, start the day with a few stretches as she usually did, before getting ready for work.
    Yeah, just a few more minutes… As she wriggled under the covers her cocoon moved and her eyes snapped open, reality crashing with the force of the thunderstorm that had put her here.
    She was in bed with Callum.
    A very aroused Callum.
    A very awake Callum, who was staring at her with a question in his eyes.
    A question she should refuse yet to which she wanted to shout a resounding yes.
    ‘Morning,’ she said, belatedly realising her cocoon consisted of his strong arms holding her tight, his legs entwined with hers, and an unrelenting heat radiating off his body and wrapping her in welcoming warmth.
    ‘Sleep well?’
    ‘Like a baby.’
    ‘I’ve never really understood that saying.’
    He disentangled his limbs from hers, sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and swiping a hand across his eyes while her skin puckered, missing his warmth.
    ‘From what I’ve heard, babies cry at night and keep their parents up.’
    He leaned forward to push off the bed, and she laid a hand on his back, hating the way he stiffened.
    ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘To take a shower. Busy day ahead.’
    That was right. They had to ignore the fact he’d spent the night cradling her in his arms, platonic comfort or not, forget they’d done it once before and concentrate on work.
    That was exactly what they should do.
    Maybe a lightning bolt had hit her as well as the cottage last night, or maybe it was a remnant of a dream, or maybe she just plain yearned to have his arms around her for a few minutes longer. But right that very second she didn’t want him to walk away.
    Sliding her hand up to his shoulder, she tugged at him until he turned.
    ‘What’s your hurry?’
    The instant flare of heat in his smouldering gaze sent a shot of anticipation through her. But he instantly damped it, shrugging off her hand.
    ‘This isn’t a good time.’
    She sat bolt upright, frantically clutching at the sheet before realising she wore the voluminous robe she’d discovered in the guest bedroom closet.
    ‘It never will be.’
    He pinned her with the intimidating glare he did so well. ‘You’re vulnerable right now, not thinking straight.’
    Vulnerable? Her? No way. She’d survived worse than one crappy thunderstorm. A lot worse.
    ‘I was shaken last night, that’s all. It was nothing.’
    She flashed a dazzling smile, tossed her hair, not caring that it must resemble a tangled bird’s nest—not the style she went to great lengths to cultivate each morning, with a healthy dollop of hair wax and mousse and the diffuser on her hairdryer.
    She wanted to have this out with him. No way would she let him go all righteous on her now.
    ‘You were seriously spooked last night. So don’t tell me it was nothing.’
    He searched her face for confirmation and she deliberately fixed her smile, ensuring her expression didn’t change—something she’d honed through kicking Sergio’s sorry butt before leaving him.
    Squaring her shoulders, she threw out a challenge she knew he wouldn’t refuse.
    ‘You want me.’
    There it was: a flash of fire again, and the tiny tic near his jaw