The Undertaker's Embrace 7

THANK YOU for those who are following this story and seem to appreciate it so much. It feels great to know there are people out there who appreciate my writing. You'll be happy to know I'm trying--very hard--to be a more regular poster so I don't leave you hanging for so long wondering what's going to happen next. Although . . .they do say anticipation whets the appetite. . . .lol


I could feel the tension tighten the muscular body beneath me for a minute before he relaxed again. I kept my breathing even, trying to hide the fact that I was awake. I didn’t know what to say so I wanted to stay silent as long as possible.

I could feel him waking up, slowly at first, and then I could feel the energy radiating from him. God, he was going to be a morning person. How disgusting.

Slowly his arms slipped from my waist and I felt the quilt slipping as he raised his arms. I felt his muscles bunch and release as he stretched carefully underneath me. He was trying not to wake me. That was sweet. He gave a large sigh before reaching down and tangling his hand in my hair again. The man had a hair fetish. I felt my cheeks heat as soon as I thought this – and remembered that one of my own hands was buried in his hair. Pushing that thought from my mind I laid still and relished his heat, the steady thump of his heart under my ear. For a few minutes I was comforted and was about to drift off to sleep when he spoke.

“I know you’re awake. Might as well open those eyes and get it over with.”

Contrary to his words I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter. Playing the game like a two year old – if I couldn’t see him, then he couldn’t see me. I felt him shift beneath me and realized I was still wrapped around him, laying on top of him like I’d been when I’d woke up. I hadn’t moved because I hadn’t wanted him to know I was awake. But if he knew I was awake there was no reason to stay still. I shifted to put some space between us but didn’t get very far. He swiftly wrapped his arms around me and turned to where we were both lying on our sides, facing each other. I bit back a groan as my stomach heaved and my head pounded double time at the sudden move. I was now between the back of the couch and him. Our position put me in the dark, since his shoulder was partially blocking the light from the window.

“Is that better? Was the light bothering you?”

His voice was still full of sleep, a little gruff but very sweet.

I still hadn’t opened my eyes, trying to think of how I wanted this morning to go. I felt his touch on the tip of my nose and my eyes popped wide open, meeting his sparkling green ones.

“Quit playing possum. I know you’re awake. Talk to me.”

I gave up the pretense and met his gaze.

“How’d you know I was awake?” My own voice came out as a rough croak, both from the beers I’d had the night before and the hour of the morning. I am so not a morning person. Not even for him was I going to pretend cheerfulness at seven a.m.

He merely looked at me for the longest time, tracing every feature of my face and then he grinned. God the man was disgustingly cheerful and sexy in the morning.

“Well, for starters you were actually laying still. All night long you moved in your sleep, didn’t stay still for longer than it took me to fall back asleep after you woke me up. Now all of a sudden you stay in the same position for more than five minutes? You’re awake.” He grinned and reached out to sweep my hair off my shoulder, allowing his hand to linger and trail across my cheek. His touch caused a shiver to go down my spine. He casually reached down and pulled the quilt up around my shoulders, tucking me underneath the warm folds before continuing. “And all night long you were as close to me as you could get. You were wrapped around me tighter than this quilt – now all of a sudden you aren’t plastered against me? Oh, yeah, you’re awake.”

I struggled to think of something to say. Anything that wouldn’t bring anymore embarrassment on myself. My head ached, I know I looked a mess and my face was still bruised. I wanted an hour in a hot bath before I had to be socialable. I wasn’t going to get it though. Not even a cup of coffee. I went to sit up but there wasn’t enough room unless I wanted to lean against Mark. He’d crowded a little closer when he’d flipped us over. I barely had room to breath without brushing up against him. In the bright light of day, I didn’t want to do that. It seemed too forward. Umm, that’s a laugh. I’d just spent the night in his arms—technically—and I thought it would be too forward to lean against him for balance. I stayed safely beneath the quilt.

“Umm, are you ready to get up?”

I swallowed hard after I asked that question. I didn’t know what I wanted his answer to be but I had to say something.

“It is a little early.” He hesitated as if he wanted to say something more but then he grinned, that disgustingly cheerful, sexy grin. “But it would probably be a better idea if we got up. What do you think?”

“You first.”

He was silent for a minute before he burst out laughing. I could feel my face turning red as I realized what I’d said. Before I gave a thought to what I was doing, I reached out and shoved him, embarrassed by my runaway tongue. I watched in horrified amusement as his laughter abruptly died . . . and he slid over the side of the couch. I was drug halfway across the couch because he hadn’t had time to let go of the quilt that was wrapped around the both of us. I heard the loud thump when he hit the floor, then there was silence. Utter and complete silence. Had he hit his head? Was he unconscious? Was he hurt? Was he so mad he couldn’t speak? My money was on the last one.

That’s why I was still laying there, trying to decide what to do when I saw his head shoot up above the cushions of the couch. His hair was completely disheveled and he had a slightly menacing look on his face.

I watched warily as he slowly, carefully untangled the quilt and climbed to his feet. All six feet, ten inches of him soon towered over me. I sucked in my breath as his chest was finally revealed in the bright light of the morning. TV didn’t do the man justice.

The muscles of his chest weren’t sculpted grotesquely like a lot of professional wrestlers but you could clearly see the muscles. My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. And that was before I noticed his nipples were pebbled from the cold in the room. I quickly jerked my eyes away from there.
God the man had shoulders that went on forever. His wide shoulders led into those impossible long arms, covered in tattoos. I could spend a week tracing each inked line on his skin and when I was done, I’d be ready to do it again. My eyes naturally followed the clean lines of his arms to his hands, those large hands of his. His long, tapered fingers were curled naturally into fists, loose and ready.

My gaze slid back up to his chest, noting the rock hard chest and abs, completely hairless. Was it natural or did he shave it? Probably shaved it. Nice tattoo there. B – S – K. I bet that had hurt. I wasn’t going to dwell on that. Pain was not a good morning thought. I continued to trace my invisible path down his body and landed on the unbuttoned waistband of his jeans. During the night his zipper had slid down a couple of inches, showing the black underwear he was wearing underneath. I could feel my eyes widen and a heated blush crawling up my neck.

“Thank God you’re wearing underwear.”