Mitch opened one eye and glared at him. “What the hell are you doing up so early?”
Craig reached over and slapped his leg lightly through the sheet but then didn’t remove his hand. “It’s road-trip time. Get up and get ready, Mitchell.”
He wanted to get up—he really did. Anything to get away from Craig’s touch. But Mitch couldn’t move as long as Craig’s hand was on his leg, burning his skin and sending tingles scurrying through him. He bit back a groan at the realization his friend’s hand was only inches away from his dick—harder than when he’d first awoke. He rolled away and pulled the pillow over his head.
“Go away,” he said again, his voice muffled.
Craig only laughed. “Ready to go in twenty, Mitchell! That’s an order.”
Mitch trembled. God, every time he heard his name like that from Craig, it drove him crazy. “It’s Mitch,” he grumbled as he sat up, only to glare at Craig’s back as he left.
“Twenty minutes,” Craig called back.