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“There’s a snake or something in my bed.”

“John, I’m tired and not falling for your little innuendos to boost your ego.” She falls back down on her side. “Go to sleep.”

“Damn, you can be demanding and believe me, you can boss me around… Any. Other. Time.” I kick my soft pillow and the creepy little shit goes flying. “There it is. Turn on the light. Now.”

She clicks the switch, and incandescent light floats over the room. “What is it? Where is it?” she asks, frustrated.

“Right there.” I point.

When she sees it, she leaps over to my bed, lunging for me. I admit it feels good for her to need me even if I’m as scared as she is.

“That’s a big freaking lizard,” she says, squeezing my arm. “Grab a golf club and shoo it outside.”

I look down at her, catching a glimpse of her small cleavage and have to shake myself out of all the thoughts streaming through my mind. “Okay, you jump down and open the patio door, and I’ll hit him with my club.”

“No, no, no. Don’t hurt him. Just make him go outside.”

“Sure, he’ll listen.”

I slide the golf club out of the bag while she moves quickly to slide the door open and jumps back on my bed. I tap the pitching wedge on her bed, and the green reptile slithers under her pillow, so I run the wedge under the pillow, and it takes off down the side of the bed onto the floor. I keep guiding it out until eventually, I have to put my feet on the floor, shooing him the rest of the way out and close the glass behind me.

We’re breathing heavy because of a fucking lizard instead of the reason I dream of.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone that you’re scared of lizards.” Her melodic laughter floats through the room.

I take her by the waist, swinging her down to the bed. She kicks and giggles, trying to get away. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as her without makeup. Stella was right about one thing; Becca is precious to me.

When the laughter dies down, she fills the void by teasing me once more as her golden hair fans out over the mattress, making her look like an angel with a devil’s mouth. “The Godfather is a scaredy cat. Oh, I wish I had that on video.”

“Don’t test me, Bex.” I snatch the phone from the nightstand, hit the camera, and take a pic with me on top of her. “We’re in a compromising position.”

She breathes hard. “You wouldn’t. Corbin would kill you.”

“I’ll take my chances. Here are my conditions.”

I dangle my phone between two fingers, letting her glimpse the blurry image of us, me sprawled on top of her, but sexy enough to give her brother the wrong idea.

“Maybe I will show this to Corbin. Maybe he’ll be happy you’re in bed with a jock instead of an accountant,” I say quietly, more teasing than threatening. Goosebumps rise on her arms, and the tension is off the charts. I expect her to snap or shove me. Instead, she just glares, with her hands on my chest to keep a safe distance, almost daring me to follow through.

I’m keenly aware of how close we are—not in the photo, but right now. Instead of laughing or what I really want to do—kiss the fuck out of her—I mutter, “Keep me safe, and your secret is safe with me.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” she asks.

“Sleep with me.”

I take a mental snapshot of her face. With the moonlight streaking in through the glass, creating dancing shadows, she looks innocent, yet sexy as hell. That is until she opens her smart mouth meant only for me.

“It’s a little soon; you just moved in.”

My cheeks twitch. Blood rushes somewhere it shouldn’t.

What do I do?

I sit on the edge of the twin bed, with my knees spread, and hold her hands in mine. Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m serious. I need to be on top of my golf game tomorrow. Sleep only, I promise.”

The gentle sincerity in my voice has her running her thumbs over my fingers.

“No funny business.”