Then I whispered, “I have to take my contacts out and get my glasses.”

His eyes went warm and his mouth got soft as his arm around me loosened and he whispered back, “All right, darlin’, I’ll be right here.”

That made me grin again.

Then I jumped up to take out my contacts and get my glasses.

CHAPTER SIX

Drawback Cancelled

“FUCK,” I HEARD muttered and my eyes drifted open to see Brock’s tee-covered chest.

We were still tangled together on the couch. Apparently we fell asleep there because early-morning sun was shining through the blinds.

I also knew that it was morning because I could hear Fiona Apple singing “Fast as You Can” from my bedroom and I knew my alarm had gone off.

“Damn,” I mumbled, shifting and preparing to push up, getting a knee underneath me and a hand in the cushion when suddenly two strong arms locked around me. I found my soft body colliding with Brock’s hard one. His hand slid up into my hair and it guided my mouth to his.

He kissed me, long, sweet, deep, and wet.

My toes curled, my belly got warm, and my body melted into his as one of my hands slid up his neck into his hair curling around the back and holding on.

When he broke the kiss, my head lifted away an inch, my eyes lazily opened, and I heard Fiona Apple was getting way louder (and I didn’t care).

“You passed out before we got to the fun stuff, babe,” Brock informed me in a deep, sexy, sleepy, rough whisper.

“I did?” I asked.

“Yeah.” I watched his mouth grin. “Right in the middle of talkin’ you just faded away.”

Crap.

How embarrassing.

I stared in his sexy, sleepy eyes and bit my lip.

Brock’s eyes dropped to my mouth.

Then I found myself on my back in the couch, Brock on top, and he was kissing me again, longer, sweeter, deeper, wetter and he added some pretty freaking great hand action.

Mm. It felt nice waking up this way.

Fiona quit singing “Fast as You Can” and “Get Gone” started, sounding loud from my adamant alarm clock that was a fancy one where you could shove in an MP3 and it woke you soft and nice with music you liked. But the longer you let it play, the louder it got.

And we’d let it play for a long time and Fiona’s changing tempo in “Get Gone” from sweet and melodious to pissed off and pounding was filling the house so much even Brock’s fantastic kisses couldn’t block it out.

Clearly mine couldn’t block it out for Brock either since his mouth broke from mine and he muttered, “Fuck, babe, sorry but I gotta turn that shit off.”

“Fiona Apple isn’t shit,” I told him.

He gave me a look, knifed off me, and prowled to my bedroom.