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“I am.” With that, he leans forward and runs his tongue up my center. I gasp because my sleepy brain did not think he meant that I was his breakfast, but I should have known. “Last night’s dessert wasn’t enough, baby.”
Yeah, about that. So we might have done more last night than kiss like a couple of teenagers. He went down on me, claiming he was going to die of hunger if he didn’t get to. Who was I to tell him no? I’ve wanted it since the night he tried, and I made him wait. So, yeah, he got his dessert and well, I did too. He tried to stop me, claiming last night was for me this time, but I was very convincing.
So, yeah, I’m exhausted and was not expecting this. When he sucks my clit into his mouth, I moan, and my quivering legs wrap around his neck.
“There you go,” he murmurs, before going back for more. He slides one finger inside me, and I can’t keep track of where he ends and I begin. Instead, I hold him to me, because I need more, and close my eyes. I focus on the feel of his mouth exploring me while he fingers me at the same time.
“Don’t hold back on me,” he demands.
“I—I’m not,” I assure him.
“Come for me, baby, and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“What if I want you?” I ask him.
“You can have me anytime you want, but your belly just growled.”
Shit. I don’t have time to be embarrassed because his mouth hovers over my clit, before he goes to work, and before long, his wickedly talented tongue and his fingers have me crashing over the edge.
Merrick doesn’t stop lavishing me until my body stops trembling. He kisses over my belly, stopping to pay attention to my breasts, before lifting his head and smiling. “Morning, beautiful.”
“We said that.”
He wipes his mouth that’s glistening from my release on the back of his arm. “We did, but I wanted to say it again.” He leans in for a kiss, and my stomach growls louder this time. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” He instead pops a kiss on my nose and climbs out of bed. I watch him as he tugs on a pair of boxer briefs from his drawer, before coming back to the bed and tucking me in, making sure the cover surrounds me.
“You stay here. I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.”
“I can come to the kitchen.”
“Nope. Not today. I’ll be back.” He taps my thigh before standing and walking out of the room.
Tears fill my eyes.
One more week.
A week from today, Chloe marries the love of her life, and this will be over. We’ve never talked about what comes after, and I, for one, am too afraid to bring it up. I don’t want to rock the boat. I want this time with him. If it’s going to be the last, I’m soaking up as much of Merrick Kincaid as I can. Besides, I’ll need these moments to last me a lifetime. I’m certain I’ll never love anyone the way I love him.
Merrick owns my heart. He just doesn’t know it.
“Are you really making me do this?” Merrick whines, making me laugh.
“Listen, mister. You said you needed stuff for your house. You have blinds and no curtains. You have, what, five bath towels? Your plates don’t match and you were complaining that your pan was scratched to hell, and the eggs stuck this morning. This is what you wanted. You said you needed help getting everything you needed for your house. Oh, and you need furniture for the spare bedrooms.”
He glances over at me from the driver's seat before his eyes dart back to the road. “I hate shopping. I thought I could give you my card or some cash and you could buy whatever I need, or hell, order it online. Even better. No need to go shopping at all.”
“The wedding is next weekend and we still have not done this. You have a beautiful home, Merrick. It’s time to buy at least the essentials.” I’m not backing down on this. This was my part of the deal, and I plan to hold up my end of the bargain.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Let it be noted that I’m not going to have fun today.”
“What?” I gasp, placing my hand over my heart. “Are you saying you won’t have fun spending the day with me?” I feign offense to his words. I know it’s not me. The man really does hate shopping.
He pulls into a parking spot at our first stop and turns to face me. “No, baby, that’s not what I’m saying. You know I love spending time with you. It’s shopping,” he groans, and I can’t help but laugh. He sounds like a teenager not getting his way.
“Suck it up, buttercup. We’re doing this. The more you cooperate, the faster we’re out of here, and on to the next store, and then we get to go home. Back to your home,” I add, because calling his place home causes pain to lance my heart. It feels like it could be home to me.
“You owe me,” he says, pointing his index finger at me, before climbing out of the truck. I don’t wait for him like I know he wants me to. Instead, I push open the door and climb down on my own. “Brat,” he teases, pulling me into his chest and kissing my temple.
“This is what you asked for,” I remind him.
