The bastard had fallen asleep on her couch. Ginger glared daggers at his skull, willing him to wake up before she resorted to violence. He couldn’t sleep there!
But he was also so peaceful looking, she couldn’t bear to wake him.
Oh, the struggles of a single, horny woman!
The options were many, including but not limited to, hitting him over the head with a throw pillow. But that handsome face, so gentle and sweet in repose, was killer on her heartstrings. There was only one answer to why she was even debating it, and it was that she was going soft.
How many men had she kicked to the curb over the years? Dozens. Granted, they’d all been at the compound, because she flat out refused to allow men into her apartment, but still. A room was a room, and personal space was personal space.
And Repo was Repo.
He was a stubborn fool on his best day, and besides…she liked him. Kind of. Maybe.
Okay, she did. A lot.
But he didn’t have to know that!
She found herself staring at his mouth. Those shapely lips, outlined by a beard so soft and white it often earned him references to Santa Claus, had been between her legs last night, giving her such pleasure she’d thought she’d go blind.
The memory itself gave her shivers.
She shouldn’t, but she wanted more.
Touching her own fingers to her lips, she remembered the way his felt on hers, and even further back to when his body had had hers. They’d been together multiple times over the years, but none were as memorable as that one night so long ago. It was so hard not to relive it, and she’d spent years trying. The problem was, Garrick was a man who left an impression. Everywhere he went. It was the reason so many women fell to their knees before him—literally. Once you had a taste of Garrick Stone, everyone else was a poor substitution.