A soft, snuffly noise broke through her increasing anxiety and for a moment, Suzanne was confused as to its origin—it sounded like a dog or a cat—until she identified it as coming from Grady. Rising slowly up on her elbow, she looked down at his face.

Sleeping. He was sleeping. Deeply if that soft, snuffle snore was any indication.

He looked peaceful. And younger. That almost constant scowl he wore was ironed out in slumber. The dark shadow of his whiskers was tempting, inviting her to touch, the slack fullness of his mouth even more so. She’d kissed that mouth far more than was good for her peace of mind.

And, god help her, she didn’t want to stop.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Joshua woke at five thirty the next morning with a numb arm, a warm woman plastered to his side, and a raging hard-on. He’d slept like the dead, and he was momentarily disorientated by the unfamiliar room and not being alone. What the hell? He didn’t sleep with women. On the rare occasions he indulged in some female company, it was always a limited transaction—date, sexy times, then leave.

So it took a few seconds for the pieces to fall into place, for the memories from last night to return. For the self-flagellation to kick in as he’d known it would when he’d drifted to sleep but had been too damn sated to care.

He cared this morning. He cared a lot. Not least of all because his men would be here soon, and he was still bare-assed naked in his fake girlfriend’s bed—the woman he should not have done the wild thing with and definitely should not have stayed in bed with all night.

Turning to gently ease his dead arm out from under Suzanne, Grady was stopped momentarily in his tracks by a strange twist in his chest. A slice of her hair had curled around her cheek, the tips brushing the corner of her mouth, which was temptingly full, and Grady wanted to put his lips on hers so badly, it rang warning bells that could probably be heard in Kansas.

He’d never craved this scenario—waking up to someone every morning—but that twist sure as hell felt a lot like regret.

Or maybe yearning.

Whatever it was, it didn’t make getting his ass out of this warm bed a very appealing prospect.

Christ. A trickle of panic dripped into his veins. He didn’t need this—it was just his hard-on talking. He didn’t need a woman to wake up to every morning, tempting him to shirk his duties around the ranch. Sure, his ranch hands could pick up his slack and do what needed to be done without him, but that wasn’t the way he ran things around here.

And nor was it about to be.