Page 69 of Meant to be Mine

I heard her moving around in the bathroom. The muffled sound of her humming. I leaned against the headboard, pulled one knee up, and waited.

The bathroom door opened. She was wearing my robe. It was too big for her, so it pooled around her feet. Her hair was damp and loose around her shoulders. She had a small towel in one hand that she’d been using to squeeze the water out of the ends.

She looked up and found me watching her.

“I stole your robe,” she said.

“I noticed.”

“You’re staring.”

“You’re sexy as hell,” I said. “Damn straight I’m staring.”

She smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, working the towel through her hair. I pulled her arm, dragging her closer to me.

“I was thinking about getting you dirty again,” I said.

“Were you?”

I kissed her. “Yep. So, I could get in that shower. All that water sluicing down your body. My tongue lapping it up.”

She laughed softly and kissed me. I kissed her back, my hands pulling her closer. Then she pulled back. Her hands pressed flat against my chest and she gave me a stern look.

“I need breakfast,” she said. “Before our next round I’m going to need sustenance. I require fuel. I am not a machine.”

“Fine,” I said. “I can’t have you passing out on me. Although I think you did pass out once last night. I made you see stars. That’s what you told me.”

She slapped at my chest. “Stop it!”

“Your eyes rolled back in your head.”

“Feed me!”

“I’ll feed you something.”

She rolled her eyes. “That is the lamest line ever.”

“Fine, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“You know how to cook?” she asked, following me toward the kitchen with clear skepticism in her voice.

“I can scramble eggs,” I said. “And I can put bread in a toaster.”

She shrugged. “That works for me.”

I pulled the refrigerator open and she hoisted herself up onto one of the stools. I grabbed the eggs and butter and set them on the counter. I was shirtless, which I was aware of, and she was watching me, which I was also aware of.

I cracked the first egg against the side of the bowl. I might have flexed my bicep.

She laughed. “I saw that.”

“Good.” I stirred the eggs in the bowl, doing a little pec dance.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said.

“Believe it, baby.”

I pushed the eggs around the pan and dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. I looked back at her over my shoulder.