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Labyrinth on the wall, wondering how the hell to proceed from here. I hadn’t woken up next to a man in over two years. To say I was out of practice was like saying Godzilla was a little lizard.
    Evan snuggled closer to me and moved my hair so he could kiss my shoulder. When he moved to my neck, my eyes widened, and I clamped my mouth shut.
    Oh God, morning breath! I can’t let him kiss me. Or roll over and talk to him. How do I wiggle out of bed to go brush my teeth without being obvious?
    “Now, you don’t want to make me feel self-conscious, do you?” I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.
    My stomach jumped into my throat. “Did I say that out loud?”
    He nodded against my shoulder before turning me onto my back. Seemingly unconcerned we were both naked, he moved the blankets off us and straddled my waist, leaning on his knees so he wouldn’t crush me. Looking up at him bathed in sunlight, I noticed his brown eyes had little flecks of green.
    “Charlie, I’m not worried about your morning breath. Or mine, for that matter. I’d rather focus on kissing the beautiful woman who spent last night in my arms.” Leaning down, he pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “And under me.” Another kiss to my neck, just below my ear. “On top of me.” He trailed his tongue down my neck and over my chest before kissing between my breasts and moving back up to claim my mouth in a toe-curling kiss.
    My hands found their way into his hair as he fucked my mouth with his tongue. I loved the way the short locks felt in my fingers—so silky, so soft. So opposite the big, bad persona he showed on TV every week.
    When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, and I no longer cared what my breath smelled like, since all I tasted was Evan.
    Rolling back to his side of the bed, he knocked his head against my wooden headboard. I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh as he rubbed the back of his tender skull. “Aren’t you supposed to be the big, tough wrestler who gets knocked around every week?”
    Evan glared over at me in what I’d seen as his “Beast” expression in my research before meeting him for the interview. “What do you mean who gets knocked around ? Don’t you know I’m the one who does the ass kicking in the ring?”
    The bed creaked as he sat up and started tickling me, and I temporarily feared for the safety of my bedframe. My arms flailed out trying to knock his hands away, but his strength far outmatched mine, and my giggles shook my body so hard any attempt at gaining purchase on the mattress failed.
    “Stop! Please!” I gasped between bouts of laughter.
    “Admit I’m king of the ring, and I’ll stop.”
    I let out a high-pitched noise I refused to admit sounded anything like a squeal. “Fine, fine. You’re king of the ring!”
    Evan grinned as he settled back onto the pillows—the only part of the bed that survived the tickle assault unscathed. The beautiful, and expensive, white down comforter lay on the floor in a crumpled heap. My eight hundred-thread count sheets—a present from my mom when I graduated college—looked like someone had jammed them in a corner and left them for a year, with all the wrinkles now firmly imprinted on them.
    Of course, the sheets had probably been my fault with how much I’d kicked and thrashed while Evan tickled me.
    Still, having him in my bed, seeing his olive skin against my cream-colored linens, remembering the things he’d done to me—with me—in that very spot…my fingertips tingled with the need to touch.
    “What time is it?” Evan asked, looking around the room, probably for a clock.
    The alarm behind him on the headboard read 7:14. Entirely too goddamn early to be awake on a Saturday, even if I didn’t mind the reason for being up. I pointed to the clock and told him the time, realizing he’d probably have to get going soon. My research indicated wrestlers were on the road the majority of the year, traveling from show to show around the