“Duly noted.” He sounds amused. “See you soon.”
After hanging up, I close the door and smile to myself as I pad back to my bedroom, slipping back in my warm bed, falling back to sleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.
When I wake again, luxurious heat is seeping into my back. I’m on my side, and a pair of strong arms is wrapped around me while someone breathes heavily down my neck. I grin, snuggling closer as I dip my head and press my face into the crook of his arm. He smells divine. I let out a little happy sigh. On his wrist, there’s a chunky, expensive-looking watch, and I crane my neck to check the time. It’s only just past eight in the morning, so I know he won’t want to wake yet.
I lie there for a few seconds, listening to his steady breathing, fighting the urge to roll over so I’m facing him. I want to see his face, I want to watch him sleep, I want to snuggle in his arms forever. I ponder my options. Do I roll over, so I can see him, like I desperately want to do, or do I do what my brain is screaming at me to do and get up to go see what my face looks like? My brain wins. I love waking up with him, but it is a little too early in our relationship for me to feel comfortable with him seeing me au naturel.
Wincing, I ease myself out of his arms and scoot over to the edge, quietly pushing myself up. When he doesn’t wake, I turn and look down at him sleeping peacefully in my bed. His chest is bare, and his face is relaxed and angelic. My heart squeezes as my teeth sink into my bottom lip. I’m so in love with this man that it’s not even funny. Today will only be our third official date, but I was in love with him way before that coffee shop incident.
My eyes follow the planes of his chest, drifting lower, and I have the insane urge to reach out and lift the quilt to see if he’s completely naked. My mouth waters at the thought alone, and my breathing hitches. I shake my head and force myself to move because I’m dangerously close to pouncing on him and ravaging his body. I turn and head towards the bathroom. As I pass the chair in the corner of the room, I notice he folded up his clothes again into a precise little pile. It’s so cute; I can’t help but beam a smile. Everything about Jared is neat and organised; even the way he comes to bed is structured and methodical. It’s the total opposite of my leave it where it lands, more chaotic mentality as I undress.
I head to the bathroom, peeing quickly and then leaning over the sink to wash my face and wipe away my eye boogers before swilling some mouthwash. Grabbing my make-up bag, I apply a thin layer of foundation and a quick sweep of mascara. It’s subtle, so hopefully, he won’t notice.
After running a brush through my hair and redoing my braid, I head back to the bedroom and slip back in bed with him, happier now that I’m a little more presentable. In his sleep, he rolls to his side, his arms instantly encasing me, pulling me against his hard chest. My nose presses against his collarbone, and I inhale, my eyes drifting closed at the scent of him. He smells edible. I wriggle closer, my body brushing against his, and I’m almost disappointed when I feel the material of his boxer shorts graze against my tummy, so I now know he’s not naked.
We lie like that for a long time; I’m deliriously happy.
When he finally begins to stir, I close my eyes and pretend I’m sleeping and that I always wake up, looking this fresh-faced and perfect. Little lies never hurt anyone. He yawns, pulling back a little before he leans in and plants a soft kiss on my forehead. I blink a couple of times for effect and tilt my head to look at him. He smiles down at me.
“See, much better than waking on my own,” he says, dipping his head and pressing his lips to mine. “Good morning.” His voice is all croaky and filled with sleep, and it has never sounded sexier.
“Hi.”
I smile against his mouth as his hand traces down my back, across my hip, and down my thigh. When it gets to my knee, he wraps his long fingers around it and pulls, hitching my leg over his hip. I gasp as his morning glory intimately rubs against me, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue lavishing attention on mine. He rolls, so he’s on top of me, and my arms loop around his neck.
He pulls back and smiles, hovering above me. “I’ll go make you breakfast in bed, as I promised.”
My needy eyes widen, and I groan in frustration, digging my fingers into his back as I tilt my hips up to meet his, eliciting a throaty growl of pleasure from him. “After,” I beg, pulling his mouth to mine.
He shakes his head and pulls back again. “Amy, once we start, I’m not going to want to stop, so let me feed you first.” He laughs as he leans in and softly kisses my forehead before pushing himself off me.
A little thrill passes through my body, and I decide I can wait. Maybe I’ll need the energy, if the promise in his voice is anything to go by. “Fine. Do you need any help?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
I watch his tight arse as he struts confidently from my bedroom in just a pair of boxer shorts, looking all kinds of glorious.
I flop back in the bed and let out a happy sigh, listening to sounds of him clunking around in the kitchen for a while before he comes back in, carrying a tray with two plates and two cups of coffee.
He sets the tray on my lap, and my eyes widen.
“I had the ingredients to make all this?” I ask doubtfully. The smell from the cinnamon and syrup wafts up towards me, and my mouth waters as I look longingly at the stack of French toast piled on the plate.
“I might have stopped on the way here to get a few things.” He shrugs, taking both coffees and putting them on my bedside cabinet before reaching out to take one of the plates.
I swallow my squeal of delight and lean over, pressing my mouth to his. He kisses me back, and even though I have French toast and syrup in front of me, food is the last thing on my mind.
He playfully winks at me as he pulls back and picks up his knife and fork, cutting off a huge piece of his breakfast and shovelling it in his mouth.
I follow suit, starting on mine. As the sweetness hits my tongue, I groan and close my eyes in pleasure. It’s heaven. “I can’t believe you can cook too,” I mumble, hacking at my breakfast and greedily chomping on it.
“I’m a man of many talents,” he replies, shrugging.
I nod in agreement and get to work on devouring my breakfast. I’m not exactly a good cook, so things like this are only ever eaten in restaurants. “It was a great idea, you coming over here last night.”
He smiles and watches as I take the last few bites of my food before reaching over to take the tray from my lap, setting it on the floor with his plate. I suck my teeth with my tongue, my eyes raking over the muscles in his back as he leans over.
When he turns back to me, I crawl over to him.
“Jared, you look like a Greek god, screw like a porn star, and cook like Gordon Ramsay. So, here’s the million-pound question. … how come you’re still single?” I raise one eyebrow, waiting for his answer.
He laughs loudly, and I throw my leg over his, sitting on his lap, straddling him. His hands immediately grip my hips as his eyes meet mine. I rest my hands on his shoulders, waiting for the answer. It was a genuine question. Why on earth has this guy not been snapped up already? How has he made it to twenty-eight without someone “accidentally” getting pregnant, so he would be forced to marry them?