Trespass by Meg Maguire Page A

was yawning before long, but Russ was still geared up, on edge.
    He gave her ankle a final squeeze. As another of her monster yawns reached its crescendo he said, “You sound like you’re ready for bed.”
    She nodded.
    “You want some shorts to sleep in?”
    “That’d be nice, thanks.”
    He left the warmth of the den to grab her some clothes, glancing at his cold bed. She was stretching by the fire when he returned. She accepted the T-shirt and boxers, stripping and changing right in front of him.
    Russ did his best to ignore his rousing cock. “Anything else you need?”
    She shook her head with a smile.
    “Okay… Well, I guess I’ll let you get some sleep.”
    She smiled again, then stepped closer and laid a polite kiss on his jaw. “Thanks again. For everything.”
    “Sure.”
    She ran her fingers over his collarbone, then stepped away to begin assembling her bed for the night.
    “Do you…” he began.
    She looked up.
    “Would you like to sleep with me? In a real bed, I mean?”
    “Thanks, Russ, but this is fine. I’m sort of a restless bedmate. I wouldn’t want to keep you up, tossing and turning. Especially after what I put you through last night.”
    “I don’t mind.” He quit his protests when he caught how tight her smile was. “Anyhow, invitation’s open.”
    “Thanks.” She turned back to her blankets.
    “Good night, then.”
    Nicole didn’t glance up. “Night, Russ.”
    He scrubbed his face in the bathroom, brushed his teeth. He clicked off the light and kept his eyes away from the den, went straight to his chilly room with its far too big bed and stripped to his underwear. For a long time Russ lay staring up at the ceiling, tugged in a hundred directions. Sleepy, anxious, horny, relieved, terrified. After perhaps half an hour he knew what he wanted, the only thing that would let him relax. He tossed his covers aside and crept out into the den. Nicole was curled on her side on the big old couch, placid face glowing in the dying firelight, hands at her heart with the blanket wadded between them. Russ took a seat at her feet and shook her calf gently until she woke.
    “Hi,” she mumbled.
    “Hi. Can I sleep with you?”
    “A little late for that, Russ.”
    “Sleep next to you, I mean.” He was aching to add “please” but felt pathetic and needy enough already without making the begging official.
    She was quiet a moment, and Russ couldn’t let hesitation win, couldn’t handle her refusal. He wedged himself behind her and weaseled his way into the covers, hugged her back to his chest and buried his mouth behind her ear. Her tense body relaxed after a few seconds.
    “Sorry if this is pushy,” he whispered.
    “Pushy’s eating all your host’s food then making a move on him,” she countered.
    He laughed. “I like pushy, then.” He held her tighter, until she squirmed, and he realized he must have pressed into her wound. “Sorry.”
    “Don’t be sorry, Russ.”
    “I’m rusty with women.”
    “Could have fooled me.”
    “Oh…well, good. Your hair smells really nice,” he added, slipping with relief back into their easy rapport from before the sex.
    “It’s your shampoo.”
    “No, it’s you.” He took a deep breath of her scent then regretted it, tried to focus on how comfy and sleepy he felt before his cock got other ideas.
    “You smell good too.” She yawned. “You smell like a man.”
    “That doesn’t sound good.”
    “It’s good… Where I’m from, the guys who don’t smell like B.O. or cigarettes smell like cheap aftershave. Or all three. You just smell like…man.”
    “You sure I don’t smell like horse?”
    He felt her silent laugh, then another yawn. He caught it and exhaled deeply against her neck. He wanted to turn her over and kiss her until they fell asleep or started messing around again. But he resisted, unclear if he’d scored a thank-you fuck, a pity fuck or an honest-to-God I-just-wanna-fuck-you fuck. To be honest, he’d take any of