Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“The chaise will work fine.” I projected the sort of confidence I’d use on an uncertain mission. But Ambrose wasn’t buying it, frowning and shaking his head as he paced the room.
“For an undersized elf, not either of us. I doubt it’s even five feet.”
“I’ve slept worse places.” I stopped his pacing with a hand on his shoulder so I could remove the bag with the dog before poor Hercules got motion sickness. I let him free so he could explore. Hopefully, Ambrose would stop looking like he was going to bolt for the parking lot any second.
“I know you have.” Blowing out a breath, he stooped to pet the dog. Straightening back up, his shoulders lifted like he’d come to some conclusion. “Which is exactly why you’re not doing it here. That bed is massive. You’re not on deployment. You deserve a good night’s sleep.”
It wouldn’t be anywhere near a good night’s sleep, but I nodded. A couple of uncomfortable hours seemed better than continuing to fight him over a chaise that looked likely to crack under my weight. How bad could this be?
Chapter Fourteen
Harley
As it turned out, sharing a bed with Ambrose was pure misery. I’d had an instructor in BUD/S who liked to remind us that things could always be worse. I’d used that to gain perspective at countless points over the years, but right then, I was having a hard time imagining a worse fate than lying in the dark inches from Ambrose.
That same instructor had also loved to say sleep was for the weak. It had worked to get us recruits up at o-dark-thirty, but the cliché offered no comfort as I watched the minutes tick by on the bedside clock. As it turned out, sleep was also for those with peaceful thoughts, not those of us plagued with ill-timed lust for their temporary bedmate.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that I was wide awake long after we’d shut off the TV and lights. Because, of course, we'd watched TV. It had been that or jumping Ambrose’s bones as soon as we’d set our bags down. TV was the smarter choice. The large wall-mounted screen seemed like a fucking lifeline as we’d stood there staring at the huge-ass bed. I’d grabbed the remote like a hand in the dark and scrolled until I landed on an older cult classic one-season show.
“I love that one! It was the perfect ensemble show. A case study in how to put together a cast with chemistry,” Ambrose had raved. Him sharing my love for the show made me smile stupidly wide and led to the two of us perching on the end of the bed, Hercules between us. I’d happily listened to Ambrose’s commentary on the show, gradually relaxing.
It seemed like we’d found a way to neutralize the threat posed by the bed, but then a couple of episodes in, Ambrose had yawned, and helpful dumbass that I was, I’d suggested we go ahead and turn out the lights.
And yup, things could always get worse. The dark room, the utter stillness, broken only by the dog’s soft snores over on the chaise, was way worse than having the distraction of the TV. Here, I had only my racing thoughts and the sound of Ambrose's breathing, knowing full well he was no more asleep than I was. I’d slept in the same room with enough people over the years. I knew what sleep sounded like, and Ambrose’s breathing was too uneven, and tense energy kept coming from his side of the bed.
Making everything worse.
We were both miserable, but neither of us said a word or moved even a millimeter. I’d stood at attention in the pouring rain before. I knew how to keep still, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard. So hard. Achingly, embarrassingly hard.
“Harley?”
Fuck. Ambrose broke whatever unspoken agreement we’d had to stay silent, stealing my paper-thin illusion that he’d been dozing.
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking…”
“That sounds dangerous.” My voice came out far flirtier than I intended. I needed to be cautious. Danger. Red alert. Get me out of here.
“Probably.” Ambrose’s low whisper was damn seductive. “But if you can’t sleep, and I can’t sleep, maybe we should consider other…options.”
“I’ll move to the chaise.”
“You will not.” He touched my arm before I could sit up. “But I was thinking about what you said in the car. About liking to jerk off with other guys.”
“Yup. Definitely dangerous thinking.” My voice was gruff, but I wasn’t shutting him down like I needed to either.
“Hear me out. Rubbing one out always puts me to sleep, and I’m betting it works for you too.”
He wasn’t wrong, but no way was I admitting that. “Bad idea. Very bad idea.”
“The way I see it, we could take turns going into the bathroom, but that’s a bit ridiculous.”
I guffawed at that. “Just a bit.”