I was at Reece’s place. Right. I remembered that, falling asleep almost immediately on his really comfy couch. He had really good taste in furniture. I started to stretch, but stilled when I realized the couch was oddly hard . . . and warm.

Confused, I moved my right hand and it slipped over something as smooth as silk stretched over marble—­something also warm and very hard. And rippled. My fingers dipped. Was that a navel?

My eyes flew open.

Holy moley, I was so not where I’d fallen asleep. This was not the couch I was plastered against or currently feeling up.

It was Reece—­a sleeping, shirtless Reece. I was curled up close against him, and I was in his bed.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up from it. For a lot of reasons, but mainly for the fact there was nothing like waking up next to this man. I’d only gotten to experience it twice before and that was not nearly enough.

Part of me was so shocked that I’d been in a deep enough sleep that he’d been able to move me without my knowledge. I tried to picture what he’d done when he returned home. Obviously he’d undressed first, and I could tell he had pajama bottoms on, because I could feel the soft, worn cotton against my bare legs. He must’ve scooped me up and carried me into his bedroom. I didn’t know if he’d placed me as close to him as I was or if I’d snuggled up to him. Either way, there wasn’t any space between us, and his hand rested on my hip.

My heart ached, and as I lay there, listening to the soft snore, I realized how badly I wanted this. Not just with anyone, but with him. Despite the messy past between us, and everything that needed to be spoken, he . . . he was still taking care of me.

That spoke of the kind of man he was. Decent and kind to his very core, and there were so very few men like that.

And Reece truly was a beautiful man.

Features relaxed in sleep, there was an openness about him that was rarely seen when awake. There was always an aura of concentrated power, and it was there even while he slept. I didn’t think it was because he was a cop. It was just something innate in him, like a second skin.

Full, well-­formed lips parted, I resisted the urge to run my thumb over his lower lip. It was even harder to deny the need to kiss him, because I really wanted to feel those lips against mine again.