Page 90 of Under Her

Her brows pull together. “Why?”

“Because then maybe we’d have been doing this for the last thirteen years.”

I brush my lips over hers, but she’s unresponsive. Another thing I don’t like.

“What’s wrong?”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Just…don’t say things you don’t mean.”

It’s my turn to frown. “Who says I don’t mean it?”

“Me. Your endless stream of women in college.”

“Just because I slept with a lot of women in college doesn’t mean I would’ve done it if you and I had gotten together. I’m just saying that maybe things would’ve been different if you’d given me a chance.”

I see something flash through her eyes, but it’s gone before I can get ahold of it.

“Morgan?”

“What?”

“Is this our first fight?”

She lifts her eyes to mine. I see they’ve softened back to how I like them. Just like melted chocolate.

“I’m not fighting with you, Wilder.”

“Good.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “’Cause I’m not fighting with you either. Fucking? I’m all up for that. But not fighting.”

I pull her head into my chest and kiss her hair.

She yawns, her hot breath brushing over my skin.

“Tired?” I ask her.

“Mmhmm. A little.”

“You want to get in bed?”

“Soon,” she murmurs.

But we never do make it to my bed, as we fall asleep right here, on the sofa, in each other’s arms.

I wake up to the sound of my cell ringing.

We’re still on the sofa. Morgan is plastered to my chest, like an electric blanket, but surprisingly, I like it.

I like having her here, sleeping with me.

It’s something I was sure I would never want—until she came along, that is.

She stirs, groaning softly, as she comes around.

“Was that your phone?” she murmurs.

“Mmhmm.”

“What time is it?”