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Her Unexpected Joy

Page 111

by Caitlyn O’Leary

“Long story. Can we go home?”

"That's probably a concussion. I need to get you to an ER."

She shook her head. “Probably just a mild one. Don’t make a big deal out of this, okay? I want to go home.”

“I can’t take you to your house⁠—”

“No, not to my house. I mean home. To your house. To James.”

“Yes, Zoe. God yes.” I kissed her. “After we get you checked out, tough girl.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

The banging started at seven-fourteen.

I knew it was seven-fourteen because Adam's alarm clock was right there on the nightstand, glowing at me in blue, and I had been awake for approximately six of those fourteen minutes, staring at the ceiling and cataloguing my damage. It wasn’t bad at all—orgasms worked far better than ibuprofen.

Adam was still asleep behind me, one arm heavy across my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck. His whole body was radiating heat like a furnace. It was wonderful. But it wouldn’t last. How could he sleep through this racket?

The banging resumed.

"Miss Zoe!" Three rapid knocks. "Miss Zoe, are you in there?"

I pressed my face into the pillow.

"Miss Zoe!" Another three knocks. "Dad! Dad, I have a very important question!"

Adam stirred behind me, his arm tightening for one involuntary second before he exhaled and relaxed again. The man could sleep through anything. I both respected it and resented it.

"Miss Zoe!"

"I'm here, James."

A muffled squeal of joy from the other side of the door. "I have a question!"

"What's your question, buddy?"

"Can you make pancakes with chocolate chips?"

I squinted at the ceiling. Shit, the headache was coming back. I looked over my shoulder. Adam was dead asleep. I guess I was stuck with ibuprofen and making pancakes.

"Yes," I called.

Another squeal. Footsteps retreating at speed down the hall.

Adam's breath was warm against my ear. "You didn't have to do that."

"I said yes before I was fully awake. It's done now."

He made a low sound that might have been a laugh. His lips pressed against the back of my neck, slow and deliberate, and my eyes almost closed again.

Almost.

"Pancakes," I said.

"Pancakes," he agreed.

Adam's kitchen was good to work in.