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I lifted her, carrying her back to bed. It was the perfect opportunity to slip out. We hadn’t established a relationship, but I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want her to wake with her hand sliding over cool sheets while she wondered if last night meant anything to me. Because it did.
After cleaning up the food and sliding in next to her, I remembered Scout. He’d be okay if I went home early in the morning. He was used to my long and crazy hours.
With Remi gathered in my arms, her ass pressed against my dick, I drifted off, feeling light and free and hopeful for the first time since college.
* * *
The next morning, I woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Remi called before bouncing on the bed next to me.
I rolled over, shielding my eyes from the bright light.
“Sorry. I love mornings so much that I don’t bother using curtains. And I don’t usually have overnight guests.”
Pleased she didn’t have a lot of guys over, I teased, “I guess blackout curtains are out of the question.”
Her answering laugh had me opening my eyes to see her hair piled on top of her head, her tits covered with my shirt, and her face bright with amusement.
“I went through my whole yoga and meditation routine while you snored.”
“I don’t snore.” My voice was gravelly from sleep, and I sounded grumpy as hell, even though I was anything but.
She smacked my arm. “You do. Don’t worry, it was a beautiful soundtrack to my morning meditation.”
“Is that bacon?”
She smiled wider, nodding.
“I think I love you.” The words were out of my mouth before I could pull them back.
I reared up, kissing her hard on her mouth before lifting her to her feet, hoping she didn’t mention my slip. “Where’s this breakfast of yours?”
She practically skipped to the kitchen, uncovering a plate of eggs and bacon. “I would have made pancakes, but I didn’t have the ingredients for it.”
Taking a bite of bacon, I took the fork she offered and dug in. “This is perfect.”
I couldn’t remember the last time anyone cooked me breakfast. It was probably my mom. I never stayed overnight at a woman’s home. I certainly never stuck around for a meal, and I’d already shared two with Remi.
The sun shone through the kitchen, but it didn’t outshine Remi.
“I made freshly squeezed orange juice.” She poured it from a pitcher into a glass, sliding it in front of me.
“You’re spoiling me.”
She smirked. “Something tells me you could use a little spoiling.”
I moved closer, needing to be next to her. I cupped the side of her face. “And you’re the one to do it?”
She shrugged. “I want to be.”
I expected her to say, someone has to, but instead, her desire to be there for me squeezed my heart. I leaned down to kiss her, savoring the orange juice lingering on her lips.
I pulled back and took a large bite of eggs.
Standing side by side, I knew I could get used to this. Sharing an early morning meal was probably routine for most people, but it felt special for us. I liked it enough to ignore my fear of screwing it up and decided to sink into the good feelings instead.
Helping her clean up, I said, “I wish I could join you in the shower, but I need to run home and take my dog out before work.”
