I feel the bed move as he settles down into it, then feel the pillows between us disappear, flung carelessly and brazenly to the floor before he pulls my shivering body against him, my back to his warm chest.
“You’re cold and owe me a bet. I’m calling it in now,” he says, not giving me a chance to protest, the words hot on my neck.
It's hard to argue when he's right and his body is like my own personal heater. Not to mention how right it feels, how perfect I fit into the crook of his body as he spoons me from behind. I try not to smile, even as I tilt my neck a bit more, hoping the heat of his breath might caress it again. Connor tenses, his hand splaying across my stomach.
“You cruel, wicked thing,” he purrs, his nose grazing the exposed bit of neck I’d arched beneath him.