I’m shocked the next morning to see that I wake before Kent. I watched him set the alarm for an ambitious six hours after we fell asleep, which will be in about…five minutes, I see, as I peek at the clock now.
Part of me is tempted to wake him like he woke me yesterday – with my hands on his naked body, touching the secret places I like to touch. But as I study his sleeping face – his brows drawn together even in repose, his full lips slightly parted, his black stubble rough on his jaw and cheeks –
I find that the only thing I can really do is…
Well, stare at him.
Christ, I think to myself, shaking my head a little. He’s just…really f*****g hot.
And then, almost as if he heard my thoughts, Kent’s shoulders twitch, and then he breathes in a deep breath, and his eyes begin to flutte
