Page 123 of Double Puck

I kissed her forehead and said "with me," which sounded great in the moment and means absolutely nothing when you dissect it. And I of all people, know that Darcy Madden is a professional dissector.

The Strip glows through the curtains we never closed. Somewhere out there, my agent is asleep, and in a few hours I'm walking into a meeting that could move my entire life to the desert.

And the woman who loves me is drooling on my chest.

She loves me.

She LOVES me.

Well. Technically, she said she’s falling in love with me, which apparently means I’ve entered some kind of emotional probation period.

Fine. I’ll take it.

I’ve performed well under evaluation before.

By the time the sun starts creeping into the room, I've made exactly zero decisions about my career, but one very firm decision about breakfast.

Because Darcy's rolled onto her back at some point, one arm flung over her head, the sheet slipped down to her waist. Her dark hair is a beautiful mess against the pillow, and from where I'm laying beside her, I've got the perfect view of her sexy as hell lips.

Her breathing is slow.

And I am a man of appetite.

So I slide down the mattress carefully, lifting the sheet over my head like I'm sneaking into a tent. Enough light filters through the white cotton for me to see her smooth legs, teasing me all the way down as I settle between her thighs.

I press a kiss to the inside of her knee, testing.

She doesn't stir.

Feeling a burst of heat racing through me, I press another kiss, higher.

Her leg shifts, so I keep going, slow, patient, working my way up the soft warmth of her inner thigh until I'm right there, staring at the slight crease of her pussy.

I take a moment, breathing her in, and God, even half-asleep she's already reacting, her hips tilting toward my mouth like her body knows me before her brain clocks in.

"Rise and shine, baby."

I drag my tongue through her in one long, slow stroke.

Above the sheet, Darcy makes a sound. It's sleepy and confused, but absolutely interested.

I do it again, flattening my tongue against clit, tasting her sweetness. Christ, it's good. I do it again as her hand lands on the back of my head through the cotton.

"Beck?" Her voice is thick with sleep. "Wha… what are you—oh."

"Morning," I say against her, which does things to her that make her whole body arch.

"Oh my God." Her fingers curl into the sheet. "Are you—is this—"

"Breakfast." I circle her clit with my tongue, dipping to her hole and licking as deep as I can. "Most important meal of the day. Go back to sleep if you want. I'll be down here."

She does not go back to sleep.

She wakes up spectacularly, thighs falling open wider, one hand shoving the sheet back so she can look down at me, hair wrecked, eyes heavy, cheeks already flushing pink.

I hold her gaze while I lick into her, and the sound she makes goes straight to my cock.

"You're insane," she breathes.