Get Rest!

The weight of her leaning against me finally tipped the scale, her body swaying slightly from the wine and the emotional storm. I couldn't let her crash on the couch like that, not with her vulnerability hanging so raw in the air.

'Come on, Georgia,' I murmured, slipping an arm around her waist to steady her. Her curves molded against my side, soft and warm, the press of her hip igniting that forbidden spark again. She didn't protest, just draped an arm over my shoulders, her fingers brushing my neck in a way that made my pulse jump.

We shuffled down the hall to the guest room, her steps a little unsteady, mine careful not to let the contact turn into something more. The door creaked open, and I guided her to the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she sat.

She looked up at me with those green eyes, still glassy from the wine and unshed tears, her blouse rumpled and slipping off one shoulder, exposing the smooth swell of her breast. My cock twitched in my jeans, the memory of her bulge from earlier flooding back—thick, insistent, a secret that made my mouth go dry with want. But I pushed it down, focusing on the protective urge instead.

'Get some rest,' I said, my voice rougher than I intended. I knelt to help her out of her shoes, my hands lingering on her ankles, feeling the heat of her skin. She kicked them off with a sigh, then flopped back onto the pillows, her blonde hair fanning out like a halo.