There was something quite delicious about having all that warm, male flesh at her disposal. And she wasn’t the only one doing the enjoying. Even in sleep Clay’s hands were on her. Holding her, cupping her, caressing her. He touched her as though he never wanted to stop. Fine by her. “You awake?” But, damn. Adjusting to the ungodly hour he rose each morning would take some getting used to. “Hmm.” She pressed back, rubbed her naked ass against him, and found him hard. “Don’t tempt me, baby. I gotta get up.” Ainsley shifted, arched into him again. His length nestled against the crevice of her ass. “Who’s tempting who here? My hands aren’t the ones roaming wild this morning. And for the record, you’re already up.” Clay plucked at the nipple he’d been teasing. “You’re a wicked, wicked woman, Ainsley Russell,”
