“Is this really necessary? I swear I have to move out. Pretty soon, you’re going to try to feed me from a spoon again.”
His bright-green eyes shoot up from where he’s tucking the blanket in around my feet. “Do not tempt me, little girl,” he says with all seriousness.
I have to get out of here. Lyn and Lila said that their lease is almost up. We’ve been toying with the idea of getting a big, old house together. Their dad, Greg Cage, is almost as bad as mine, but he still let them leave the house. They think it’s sweet that mine is so protective, but when the role is reversed and it’s their dad pulling something crazy, or their brothers—all three of them—they don’t find any humor.
“Not moving out, Danielle.”
“You can’t stop me, you know,” I remind him around my yawn, hunkering down into my warm bed.
“Sleep,” he demands before he slips out of the room.
But do I even give moving out a second thought? Nope. I smile, cough, smile again, and then fall into one hell of a deep sleep.
“There’s that beautiful smile,” the voice says, and my smile deepens.
“Jesus Christ. What the hell did they give her? Izzy!” another voice booms. “The fuck did that bottle say? She’s out like she’s in a goddamn coma!”
I frown when my father’s voice enters my heavenly dream.
Good lord, what is he doing in my dream? Daddy shouldn’t be here. Not when I finally have Cohen Cage in my bed. Well, besides the fact that that would be sick, he would kill Cohen if he caught him putting a hand on me. Literally. Cohen would be dead.
“I’m sure it’s fine, Axel,” Cohen says softly. “Mom sent me over with some soup and some show that the girls have been going nuts over. I don’t mind sitting with her.”
Ha! Yeah right. Sitting with her would mean that Daddy would trust something with a dick near his daughter. Regardless of who it is, that would never happen. Yup—definitely dreaming.
“Yeah, sure, son,” he stutters.
I can just picture him rubbing the back of his neck with a helpless look.
“Let me go call that stupid kid doctor and see what the hell he did to my little princess. I knew he didn’t look old enough to be out of med school.”
“You got it,” I hear him mumble, and the bed dips.
I listen as my father’s footsteps stomp out of the room and the door shuts softly behind him. Ah. Finally. My dreams of him never last long enough, and there is no way I want to share good dream time with my father in the picture.
I have a feeling that, even in my dreams, he would be like a giant shield against any man who even breathed in my direction.
“Dani-girl,” he whispers in my ear. “I have your favorite soup from my mom here. Why don’t you open those beautiful green eyes and take a bite? If you do, I promise I’ll even sit here and watch a few episodes of Game of Thrones with you.”
“You furrr real?” I slur and open my eyes slightly before quickly closing them when the bright light from the sun hits my tired eyes. “You can’t be real. You’re in my dream bed, Cohen!” I reach out and pat his stubbled cheek a few times, trying to get my eyes open and focused on his face. “You can’t be here. What if Daddy catches you? Wait. Why are you dressed? You’re not usually dressed when you’re in my dream bed.” My hand drops from where I was rubbing all over his face and starts to roam over his cotton-covered chest. “You can take it off. I won’t bite.” I giggle and start to trail my hand lower to get this stupid shirt off him.
God, he feels like heaven.
A surprised noise somewhere between a choking gasp and a shocked stutter comes from his mouth, which is followed by a groan that rumbles against the palm I have resting against his chest.
I bite my lip, thinking that I can at least try to do something seductive. They’re always doing it in the books I love to read. Even if I never understood what’s hot about lip nibbling, I might as well give it a go.
“You’re so hard,” I whisper in awe as my hand continues to palm his pecs, his abs, and everything between. “And warm,” I add, nuzzling in close. My head moves to his shoulder, my hand still rubbing his hard stomach, and I pull one leg up to wrap around his hips.
“Jesus Christ,” he moans when my leg hits his crotch.
“Are you hard . . . everywhere? My dream is going to stop soon. It always does. You should just tell me now. Then, when I wake up, I won’t be disappointed because I once again missed all the good stuff.” I sigh deeply. “I bet you’re huge,” I giggle.