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Phryne blinked her eyes open and frowned for a moment at the feeling of a warm body curled against hers. She was fully clothed, and it seemed the person behind her was as well. Very unusual. If the sound of her companion’s breath was any indication, he was still asleep. He was also experiencing his morning arousal if the pressure at her lower back was any indication. With a lazy smile, she covered the hand resting on her hip with her own and stroked her fingers lightly over his. Only a split-second of realization later, she remembered the night before and knew that it was Jack’s hand under hers. Jack’s warmth. Jack’s breathing. Jack’s arms. Jack’s hard cock at her back.
Her first thought was how damned amazing he felt. And, oh God, he did. She glanced down over the doona to the spread of his fingers on her hip. The bed even smelled of him and her together – pomade and perfume, man and woman.
Her second thought was that she could not allow him to wake up like this. Her heart ached at the mere thought of his discomfort and embarrassment, and she couldn’t stand it. This man’s first morning in her arms would give him nothing but joy and pleasure when the time came.
Calling on all of her grace and stealth, she slowly, inch by inch, extracted herself from his arms and then from the bed. She felt rather proud of herself; there hadn’t been so much as a hitch in his breathing. She allowed herself a look back at him, and her heart caught in her throat. A wayward curl of hair had escaped onto his forehead. Every line of his face was at peace. His pyjamas revealed the hollow of his throat. And – she was no saint, never had been – his erection was something to be proud of.
It would have been so easy to turn in his arms or move her hips back against his and bring about what they both had wanted for a long time. Yes, it would have been easy. But she didn’t want easy.
She slipped into the next room, locked the door, and slid her hand down her body. “Jack,” she whispered into the doorframe as she came.
Jack blinked his eyes open and frowned for a moment at the feeling of a warm body curled against his. He knew whose coal-black hair tickled his chin and whose peach satin-covered knee lay over his, but it took him a moment to remember how it had come to pass.
Oh, right.
Phryne shifted against him and sighed, tightening the arm she had slung across his waist. He smiled in spite of himself. Not quite how he had expected to wake up with her for the first time, but it was pleasant enough. He fought the urge to touch her. It would be innocent enough, he knew, to rub his hand over her back or stroke her hair. She might even like it. But he couldn’t do it without her permission, and he couldn’t do it until he was sure it meant something to her.
She sighed again, only this time it was his name.
“Are you awake?” he asked quietly.
“Mostly,” she said. “Enough to appreciate how comfortable you are.”
“Thank you.”
“I rather like waking up in your arms.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed, not trusting himself to reply in the right way. Not sure if any right way existed.
Phryne raised her head and smiled down at him with sleepy eyes and a creased cheek. Her gaze flitted from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “Something to look forward to, perhaps,” she said.
Without letting himself think his way out of it, Jack tucked her hair behind her ear before gently drawing her mouth down to his for the lightest of kisses. “Very much, Miss Fisher.”
Her answering smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.