Deviant Prince [Romano Brotherhood, #2]

23 | Vivienne

The first time I wake up, it's far too hot.

This blanket-nest of mine is actually something my sister and I used to do when we were kids. With our parents at work and our nanny bored, we'd gather the house's blankets and pillows in one spot, burying ourselves in it with everything we'd need for at least six hours. Nearly every time, one of us would realize we forgot something in the other room once we got all settled. The amount of effort it took to extricate ourselves from the abyss caused tears of laughter to streak down our cheeks.

I'm not sure why I still do it sometimes. It's proved to be the coziest, most sweat-inducing cure for all ailments.

I throw an arm out violently to attempt to dislodge myself so I can see what time it is. My blanket groans. I freeze. 

Cracking my eyes open—slowly because I am scared—I'm greeted with the top of Massimo's head. We're both on our sides, curved towards each other, so I can't tell who initiated what. But his head is on my chest and my thigh is fully hooked over his hip, one hand buried in his hair. I'm literally attached to him like a fucking leech.

Oh God.

I start panic-sweating.

If he wakes up, who knows what will happen? If he can't handle a simple cheek caress, there's no way this is okay.

I hold my breath, trying to gain ahold of something with a stray foot or hand so I can push myself away from him. But we're surrounded by pure fluff, nothing substantial to grab—ah, there.

My human blanket groans again. But this is a different kind of groan.

I'm grabbing his dick. What I thought was, like, the corner of the coffee table was very much his dick and I just fully grabbed it with my foot. Now far too aware of the status of his dick when he's in a dead sleep, I can only sink back into the blankets. It's either that or I assault the man, because I don't have the heart to wake him up. Not when he looks like he desperately needs this sleep.

Eventually, my eyelids get heavy again, and the soft gust of his breath over my neck soothes me back to sleep.

♛

The next time I wake up, I'm alone.

Bleary-eyed, foggy-brained, and feeling like I've been asleep for three and a half years, I crawl out of the blanket nest. By the time I'm free, I'm panting from exertion. Inexorably grumpy and desperately wanting a shower, I nearly malfunction when I discover that the bathroom door is locked.

I violently wiggle the doorknob.

Now that I think about it, I haven't seen my human blanket around.

I'm about to start entertaining the possibility that I'm interrupting him in the middle of a very unfortunate endeavor when the door is yanked open. With my hand still extended in the air, I blink up at Massimo in all his bleary-eyed, just-woken-up glory. He's fully clothed except for his suit jacket, which is crumpled on the floor in a way that suggests he was sitting on it.

"Were you... sleeping in here?" I squint, and he must recognize that there's no way out of this one because after a brief pause, he nods. 

"Okay. Why?"

He suddenly becomes transfixed with a spot just above my head. "No reason."

Dammit. His voice is all thick and worn when he's just woken up. Stupid attractive idiot.

I push past to brush my teeth. "I'd venture to say that's a big fat lie." With him watching, I finish up and meet his stare in the mirror. "You lock yourself in bathrooms often?"