“Dream on.”

“A man can hope, Sissy Mae. When that’s all he has left.”

Sissy laughed at Mitch’s dramatics and wondered if he’d even realized he’d settled down in her bed, curled on his side, hands under his cheek?

She looked down at her full-sized bed. It was perfect for her when she stayed in here alone, but to share it with a lion-sized male did not sound remotely comfortable.

Resigned to sleeping in the guest room or Smitty’s room, she started to move off the bed. But Mitch grabbed her hand.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, already falling asleep.

“Mitch, Mitch, Mitch. If I stay, you’ll only fall madly in love with me like so many men before you.”

“It’s you we have to worry about,” he sighed out. “You’ve already been trapped in my erotic web of lust. Might as well give it up to the daddy of all cats.”

Grinning, Sissy stretched out next to Mitch, her arm thrown over his waist. “You keep on dreamin’ that dream, kitty.”

“I will. I own ponies in that dream, too.”

Sissy laughed, and Mitch started snoring. Not a scary, annoying snore, just a snore that told her he was out cold.

In his sleep, he grabbed her arm and held it against him. Even if she’d wanted to go somewhere else, didn’t look like it would happen.

She didn’t mind, though. Sissy knew for a fact there were worse ways to spend a night.

Chapter 8

Mitch woke up feeling better than he had in a very long time. His strength was building back up quickly, and the usual panic he woke up with simply wasn’t there this morning.

Of course, that could have a lot to do with the fact his face was buried between two large and perfect breasts.

Opening one eye, Mitch quickly realized he was completely entangled with Sissy Mae Smith. He’d had dreams about this sort of thing before, but usually, they were both naked and covered in scratch marks.

This, however, would do for what he would consider an excellent morning wake-up.

Mitch couldn’t believe how well he’d slept. In fact, he’d come to terms with his possible death simply by realizing that for once, he’d actually get to sleep again. A real sleep. Deep and unconcerned and without worrying about everything and anything.

But he didn’t have to die to get that kind of sleep. Instead, he simply had to trust himself to Sissy. Not nearly as hard as it sounded because he knew she had his back. If she knew there was danger, she’d get him up and be ready to fight within seconds, and he’d do the same for her.

That kind of partnership meant more to him than some piece of ass because that kind of partnership kept him breathing.

Sissy suddenly moaned in her sleep, and her arms tightened around him, her hands digging into his hair.

Uh-oh. This wasn’t good. No, that was wrong. This was good. It feltgood. It felt amazing, having Sissy wrapped around him like this. But it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of her when she was out cold.

Right…right?

“Oh, God,” she groaned, the leg she had around his waist tightening up. Immediately, Mitch’s body began to respond, his morning wood taking on gargantuan proportions. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”

“I’m not a saint,” he muttered. “You’re asking too much of me here.”

He had to push her off. He had to set her aside, and he had to get in the shower and take care of things himself. And he had to do that now.

“Clyde.”

Mitch froze. Clyde? Who the fuck was Clyde? And why the fuck was Sissy moaning about him in her sleep? Was that the ex-boyfriend she’d mentioned last night? Was she still hung up on that guy?

And even more importantly, why the fuck did Mitch suddenly care?

She giggled. “Clyde.”

That was it.

“Hey.” He shook her. “Hey!”

Sissy’s eyes fluttered open, and Mitch forced himself to ignore how pretty those light brown eyes were this early in the morning.

“Huh?”

“Who the hell is Clyde?”

“Clyde?” Sissy frowned. “What?”

“Clyde. You moaned Clyde in your sleep. Who the fuck is Clyde?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Her eyes looked away. “Clyde.”

Wait. What did that mean? What was that expression on her face? What wasn’t she telling him?

“Yeah. Clyde. So who is he?”

Sissy shook her head and still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Nobody.”

“Sissy—”

“Come on. You promised me we’d go hunting.” She wiggled out of his arms and scrambled out of bed. “I’m going to brush my teeth first, then we’re going.”

“Answer my question, woman!” But she’d already skipped out of the room.

Really. She’d skipped.

After ordering his cock to get some control, Mitch tossed off the covers and marched into the bathroom. Sissy stood at the sink brushing her teeth. She grinned around the toothbrush, showing a mouthful of toothpaste, before she handed him his toothbrush.

“And this Clyde conversation isn’t over,” he told her before he started brushing his teeth. She only snorted, spit out the toothpaste, and rinsed her mouth. Then she skipped out of the bathroom.

He was getting tired of the skipping.

Five seconds later, she walked back on all fours, her tail wagging. When he kept brushing, she barked at him.

“Two minutes!” he snapped around his mouthful of toothpaste and went back to brushing. Didn’t she know that dentists recommended at least two minutes of brushing twice a day?