My eyes snapped open.

Zach had broken up with me over six months ago. Still, I knew the kind of warmth I was wrapped in. A man was in bed with me, curled around me spoon fashion, his arm pulled tight at my waist to keep me close. Whether he was a soup spoon or a grapefruit spoon remained to be seen. I’d have to ask Van, because the spoon thing only made sense to her, anyway.

My tank top had ridden up in the night, and a hand rested warm and possessive against my stomach. I could feel it down to my toes. Hot breath huffed against my neck. I had one of those odd thoughts that if I moved a single muscle, I might actually burst into flame.

I reached back with one hand. Hot skin. Hip bone. My fingers clasped it automatically, and I have never in my life been more turned on by a hip bone. Heck of a time to find out I had a weird fetish, though I had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t so much about hip bones as it was about this specific hip bone.

I should let go. I told my hand to let go.

My hand politely told me to go fuck myself. My hand was an asshole.

I really needed coffee.

His body tensed as he came awake.

I let go of his hip. “Declan?”

He relaxed again, burying his face back into my neck, making me shiver. “Hm?”

“Are you naked right now?” I knew the answer, but I asked the question anyway.

He grumbled something and somehow managed to curl around me tighter. Apparently, he had zero problems using me as a teddy bear and thought nothing of sleeping with me completely naked. To hell with soup spoons, Declan was a gods damned ladle.

My phone buzzed again. I’d plugged it in before I went to bed last night the first time, and it was all the way over on my desk. Which I could not get to because I was sandwiched between a large, musclebound shapeshifter and the wall.

“Declan.” I tapped his head. His hair was soft and thick, like a pelt. My hand, still mad that we’d let go of his hip, buried itself in his hair. He mumbled against my neck, and this time the shiver was joined by goosebumps. It was a good thing he couldn’t see my nipples right now, because they were so hard I could probably use them to carve an ice sculpture.

Nothing too elaborate. Maybe a really basic swan.

I hadn’t had sex since my last boyfriend and I hadn’t had really good sex in three years. Waking up like this was one hundred percent not fair to my sad, neglected libido. “Dec, I need my phone. It could be important.” A cold wash of reality hit me as I remembered how important that text could be. That text message buzz could be the sad sound of my career ending. Or worse, the sad sound of Mama Ami’s career ending.