Tess’ muttered curse intruded on Jake’s slowly recovering consciousness, accompanied by watery morning light that looked all wrong. “Jake, do you know where my phone is? I heard it ring but I can’t find it. Wake up.” Slender cold hands pushed his shoulder, rocking it back and forth. “’M awake,” he objected, blinking and trying to get his bearings. Tess was sitting next to him on the bed—no, couch—and she was wearing his shirt from the day before. Dark-blue plaid. She looked great in it, and his morning-fueled response to her assured him she’d look even better out of it. When he reached for her, she slapped his hand. Slapped his hand. Good thing the scene was over. “Jake. Help me find my phone. Are you always like this in the mornings? I thought you were a morning person.” “I am a morning person.” He sat up, yawning hugely and scratching his head. Where the fuck…? Ah. The basement. The workout thing. Tess. Sex. Good stuff. It was all coming back to him now.
