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“Now can we go back to sleep?” His phone rang. “What the fuck now?”
Hand slapping all around his nightstand, he finally found it and answered. The alarm clock read six in the morning. Who would call so early?
“Got it,” he said to the caller after a few seconds. He rubbed his face and sat up. The blanket slipped off him, and even through his jeans, she could see that he had a hard-on. “Don’t mind me.”
Trace stretched and crawled out of bed. Every muscle in the man’s body was carved. Corded. Holy moly, she might pass out. Had she ever seen something so ruggedly handsome? And the tattoos… A work of art. That was the only way to describe him.
“We’ve got a job, and I’ve got to run.” He dropped his jeans and walked toward his closet.
Holy moly? More like “Holy butt cheeks.” Marlena sucked a breath, fell back on the bed, and covered her face with a pillow. “Trace, you are too much to handle.”
She heard his laugh then peeled back the edge of the pillow.
“I thought that about you last night, and seriously, if something wasn’t very time-sensitive, I’d give the boss the finger and stay here with you. Santa-bear jammies and all.”