I was glad we were busy tonight; it made the three hours go by fairly quickly, although I wished the band would have hurried more when they packed their instruments up.

I was so excited to finally lock the doors and get back upstairs to my very incredible guest that I ran up the steps to my apartment.

Ryan was lying on the couch, peacefully asleep. His long legs were stretched out and his bare feet hung off the edge. I was surprised to see he was wearing wire rimmed glasses. He looked very studious and handsome.

I slowly removed the thick script that rested on his chest from underneath his folded hands and set it on the coffee table. He was so sound asleep that the motion didn’t even make him stir. I grabbed the quilt that my grandmother made off the back of the loveseat and covered him up.

I noticed his tawny hair was still damp and unkempt from sleeping. I sat down on the wooden coffee table and took the sight of him into my memory. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed in his slumber and I hoped he was having peaceful dreams.

Goodnight Sweet Prince, I thought to myself, taking one last look at him before I turned out the lights and headed for bed.

It was still dark in my bedroom when I woke, suddenly startled. I felt my bed jostle as Ryan carefully slid his body underneath my blankets.

Without saying a word, he snuggled up behind me and made himself comfortable on the spare pillow. I leaned back slightly to acknowledge him, resting my body on his chest. He curled up tighter behind me; I could feel that he was still fully dressed.

Ryan’s hand skimmed down my arm. Very slowly, he slid his open hand on top of mine, lacing our fingers together. He let out a soft sigh when I closed my fingers around his.

For how hard I tried to protect myself from getting hurt, it felt so right to lie here with him. Our bodies nested together perfectly - like we were made for each other. It was apparent that he was just as affected by me as I was by him.

The sun started to rise and soft light filled my bedroom. I felt his arm pull me closer to his chest; his warm breath caressed my shoulder as he snuggled with me. His breathing returned to the sound of sleep, so I let myself drift back to my incredible dream.

I woke again when I felt him stir. His fingers flexed, gripping my hip. His fingertips circled to feel what I was wearing. His legs stretched and he lightly pressed himself into me when his brain received the message that I was only wearing panties and a T-shirt.

Dizzying arousal shot through my body from his touch. My mind quickly wandered with other visions of how his steely hands could grip my hips.

New cravings for him were growing rapidly in my thoughts.

“Good morning,” he whispered in my ear, sliding his hand across my stomach.

“Mmm, hi!” was all I could say as our eyes met. He grinned at me and gently swept my hair off my forehead with his fingertips.

“Sorry I fell asleep on you last night. Why didn’t you wake me when you got back?” He yawned.

“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you.”

He smiled that sexy grin at me – the one that makes my pulse race – while his fingers drifted over my skin and caressed my face.

The desire to lean into him and press my lips to his was so strong, and I didn’t have the internal strength to fight it anymore. He appeared to be fighting the same urges, but that was a threshold of intimacy that he didn’t cross.

I rolled over to face him and nestled my cheek on his shoulder; my hands palmed his chest. I just wanted to touch him somehow, some way. He wrapped his arm over my shoulder so his hand could hold my head to his chest. My life would be perfect if I could wake up every day to this feeling.

After I was showered and dressed, I joined him in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter with a coffee cup in his hand - another mental picture I committed to memory. His face lit up when I walked into the room; his reaction caught me off-guard. Why is he so happy to see me? Me?

Ryan looked so casual, standing there in a very familiar dark blue T-shirt, his jeans with the worn pockets hanging a bit on his hips. He hadn’t put on any socks or shoes yet; his bare feet were holding him confidently in place. I never realized that seeing a man drinking a cup of coffee in my kitchen could be such a turn-on.

“Hey there,” he greeted me. His face flashed a big grin; his eyes looked me over. “I hope you don’t mind but I made some coffee. Can I pour you a cup?”

“Yes, that would be very nice.” I opened up the refrigerator to get the milk.

“Here, let me get that,” he said as he took the container from my hand.

I reached back into the refrigerator for the carton of eggs. I was hungry; I figured he must be hungry too.