God she was thirsty. Her mouth felt like the Sahara, and she swallowed thickly, trying to ease the dryness. She knew that she would have to get up and get a glass of water eventually, but the strong arm wrapped around her waist kept her in the bed.
Of course Jason would be a cuddler in his sleep. It was kind of cute, if she was honest, and a total departure from the scowling man he was when he was awake. Maybe, if her cousin could see him like this, so vulnerable and relaxed, she might change her mind about him.
It was tragic just how in love with Scarlett the man behind her was. It had taken her mere seconds to figure it out after seeing them in the same room together. Truly, she pitied him, being in love with someone seemed torturous to her, even more so when that person was completely oblivious, and she prided herself on keeping her feelings separate from her bed fellows as much as possible. But if she could provide him with some kind of distraction, or be some kind of substitute, she was happy to help. In return for amazing sex of course, and the opportunity to make her cousin mad.
She shifted slightly in his grip and felt the delicious burn from where his stubble had rubbed against her thighs earlier and grinned despite herself. Those rumors about his performance in bed were definitely true. And it made a nice change from her usual forty-something business man with a receding hairline and an unhappy marriage, or their sons.
The good news was that his grip on her waist seemed to be loosening, and she slowly edged herself away from him inch by inch until she was able to sit up and swing her legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed his t-shirt from the pile of their clothes on the floor. His room was still crowded with high school sporting trophies and paraphernalia, and she idly ran her fingers over them as she passed on her way to the door.
She glanced back over her shoulder before she slipped out, just to make sure he was still peacefully asleep, and shut the door softly behind her and tip toed down the stairs into the Walker’s kitchen.
