“Fuck yeah,” he growls, spreading my thighs and sliding into me like he’s been there a million times before.
Pinning my hands up against the headboard, he slams into me over and over, the bed shaking with his ferocity.
“Yes,” I moan. “So good!”
Suddenly my eyes open.
I glance around the dark room.
Shit.
It was a dream.
Tracker is next to me, our bodies touching. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted. His hair is loose, tickling the edges of his face. I resist the urge to kiss him.
I consider waking him up but then decide not to. He looks so peaceful. Almost childlike.
I guess I’ll have to finish the scene on my laptop instead of in reality. Luckily my imagination is running wild, fuel for my writing.
SEVEN
I WAKE up feeling warm and content. Tracker is pressed against my back, his strong arms around my waist and his face in my hair.
My eyes widening comically, I sit up and look down at a sleeping Tracker.
He cuddles.
Like a fucking champ.
Opening one eye, he grins at me lazily. “It’s still early, go back to sleep.”
“How do you even know what time it is?”
“I just know,” he replies, his voice thick with sleep. “Come back to me.”
The man can be so sweet.
Slipping back between his arms, I sigh, wondering how I ended up here. When I’m almost back in a deep sleep, I hear the room door open, and a loud gasp belonging to my best friend.
I sit up.
Anna points at me. “You . . . you . . .”
She was speechless, that’s a first.
“We just slept,” I tell her, sliding out of Tracker’s embrace and getting out of bed. I point to the door, and the two of us leave the room. She waits until we hit the kitchen before she starts with the questions.
“What the hell happened last night?” she yells, then groans, touching her head and wincing. Her hair is a matted nest, and I cringe thinking about her having to brush it out, glad it’s not me. Makeup is still smudged around her eyes—apparently I didn’t do a good enough job taking it off last night—yet she still manages to look gorgeous in a grunge-chic kind of way. “Okay, no loud noises.”
I laugh. “I picked you up from Rift. You were drunk and fell asleep in the car.”
She groans again. “Fuck, I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, smiling. “Tracker was with you. We went and got some food, then came back here and slept. End of story.”
“Where is it then?” she asks, trying to tame her blond hair, which is sticking up in every direction.
“Where is what?”
“The food. Did you get me any food?” she asks, looking hopeful.
“Ummmm. I did. But Rake ate it,” I tell her, cringing.
“That bastard!” she growls, her eyes narrowed.
I start giggling and she soon joins in. “When does Arrow get back?”
“Hopefully tomorrow,” she says, opening the fridge and rummaging through the contents. “He, Sin, Trace, Irish, Ronan, and Vinnie are gone.”
I lean up against the countertop, tying my own hair up and away from my face. “Do you know where he goes?”
“Nope,” she replies popping the P. “Well, I know where. I just don’t know why.”
“And you’re okay with that?” I ask carefully.
She closes the fridge and studies me. “Why? You considering getting with one of the men? A certain member with a huge pierced cock?”
My eyes flare. “Lower your voice, Anna!”
She grins cheekily. “Why? Don’t want lover boy to hear us discussing his—”
“Deliciously hung penis?” Tracker suggests, walking into the kitchen and rubbing his eyes. “Christ, Anna. You yelling the word cock at nine in the morning isn’t how I want to wake up.”
Anna laughs. “Bet if it was Lana saying it . . .”
“Whole different story,” he says casually, then turns to me. “You slept like a fuckin’ baby last night. Admit it.”
With two sets of eyes on me, one curious one knowing, I shrug and clear my throat. “I slept okay.”
“Ha,” he barks. “You slept like the dead. You can play it off, but I know the truth,” he says playfully. “Now, to finish off the best date in the world, I’m going to make you breakfast.”
“You can’t cook!” Anna balks, looking at Tracker like he’s grown an extra head.
“Says who?” Tracker asks, head now in the fridge.
“Me.”
“And who are you? The fuckin’ cooking police?”
“I could be.” Anna sniffs, giving me a wink. She gives me a curious look; she’s going to want answers. But what do I say? I don’t even know what’s going on between us. I’d been so sure I didn’t want to get into anything with Tracker, but he is proving impossible to resist.
Persistent bastard.
With cheese and eggs in his hands, Tracker commands us both to sit.
“Do you like omelets, Lana?” he asks me in a much gentler tone than the one he used with Anna.
I nod.
“Good,” he replies, grabbing a pan and getting to work.
“Are you cooking for me too?” Anna asks, peering into the pan with avid interest.
He sighs exaggeratedly. “Fine. But you’re really ruining our breakfast date.”