My eyes flew open.

For half a second I thought I was still dreaming—the fingers between my legs were too sure, too practiced, stroking along the softest part of me like they had every right to be there. Then the reality slammed into me.

I wasn’t alone.

A man was sitting on the edge of the bed, one knee bent, his body angled toward mine. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair still slightly mussed from travel. He wore a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and dark trousers that looked like they’d been slept in on a plane. His free hand rested near my hip. The other was the...