“I don’t need a recitation of the downsides. I don’t care what they are because I want more, too. With you.”
That rogue heart began to pound. “You do?”
Her fingers traced patterns on his nape, which did nothing but stir him further. “I’ve been telling myself for a long time now that I don’t have time for anything but fun and simple. But the fact is, I’ve let work consume everything else because I didn’t have anyone in my life. I’ve stuck to the party line of fun and simple because I thought it’s what you wanted, and I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“I don’t think you could scare me off.” Ethan stroked his fingers through the ends of her hair.
“Thank God.” She dragged his head down to hers. “Make love with me again. Just one more time before we sleep.”
“Anything you want,” he murmured, and captured her mouth with his. But he knew one more time would never be enough.
Chapter 14
When her alarm went off, Miranda slapped the snooze and groaned, pulling the pillow over her head from long habit. God, she hated mornings. At least today her body felt deliciously used and relaxed. Maybe she could convince Ethan of the merits of quickie shower sex before work. That would sure as hell make up for the indignities of being awake at dawn. With that in mind, she stretched one foot out toward his side of the bed.
But there was no warm, willing man stretched out beside her. In fact, the sheets were cold. Miranda pulled her head out from the pillow and squinted over where he ought to be. He’d gone to sleep with her last night. She hadn’t dreamed curling up around him. The scent of him still lingered on the pillow and on her. So where the hell was he?
Angling her head, she listened toward the bathroom. But the shower wasn’t running, and she didn’t hear any sounds of him puttering around. Surely, he hadn’t just left? Unless he got a call and she somehow missed it? But he’d leave a note in that case, wouldn’t he?
Dragging herself out of bed, she stretched and slipped on one of the oversized t-shirts she normally slept in. Coffee. She’d make coffee and figure this out. She hadn’t set up the automatic timer last night, so she’d suffer through the pod stuff for her first cup, just to kickstart her brain enough to measure beans properly. Her yen was so strong she could smell it. And bacon.
Wait. Bacon? That wasn’t one of her normal morning hallucinations.
Shuffling downstairs, Miranda stumbled toward the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. There was coffee in the pot and a barefoot, bare-chested, sexy man cooking bacon at her stove. As she watched, he lifted a couple of slices onto a paper-towel covered plate.
“What is all this?” Well, it was what she’d meant to say. What came out was more like, “Whasis?”
Ethan turned and smiled at her, and it was almost as good as a shot of coffee for taking the sting out of being awake this early. “Mornin’, Legs. I made breakfast.”
Miranda blinked, wondering if she was still dreaming. Then he reached for the carafe of coffee and poured it into a mug. And not one of the tiny, normal people mugs. The big, holds-two-full cups one with a picture of Grumpy Cat on the side. She whimpered a little prayer. “Coffee?”
He brought it over, setting the mug on the island. Miranda followed its path like a junkie in search of her next fix. Which she was.
When she reached for it, Ethan blocked her path. “Wait just a bit. It’ll scald you.” He reeled her in instead, lacing his hands behind her back and pressing his mouth to hers.
Because he was warm and solid and way cozier than her chilly kitchen, Miranda melted into him, twining her arms around his neck and wishing they had an hour or three until they had to be at work. This was a much better way to begin the morning.
“Mornin’,” he murmured.
“You made me coffee.”
His chest rumbled against hers. “Bit of a one-tracked mind first thing, huh?”
“Two. But you weren’t in bed when that God-awful alarm went off.”
“Sadly, there’s no time for that.” Ethan released her and went back to the stove, where he expertly flipped some fried eggs. “We’ve got just enough time to eat, shower, and for me to take you to get your car.”
Miranda picked up the mug and brought it to her lips for a long swallow. The taste of the heavenly brew brought another hum of pleasure. The man made stupendous coffee. Another few sips and her eyes felt less like they needed a crane to haul them open.
Ethan plated the eggs and bacon and brought them to the island. “Sit. Eat.”
Sliding onto one of the barstools, she gave him a sideways glance. “You’re a morning person.”
“You say that like it’s an accusation of murder.”
She took another gulp of coffee. “In this house it normally would be. But you made me coffee and breakfast—after a night of really excellent orgasms, so I’m finding it hard to hang on to my natural mad.”
He unsuccessfully hid a smile in his own mug of coffee. “Your brother wasn’t kidding about you not being a morning person.”
“No. No he was not. And that’s on a night when I get normal sleep.”
“I probably should’ve walked away last night. I’m trying to feel bad that I didn’t, but I’m having a hard time with that.”
“You were exactly where you were supposed to be.”
Ethan reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind one ear. “I was exactly where I wanted to be.”
Miranda leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. “Do we have to adult today? Can’t we call in sick and stay in bed all day?” She opened her eyes. “Catching up on sleep and…other things.”
Those smoky eyes went hot. “I have never wanted to play hooky more in my life than I do right now. But I have about a hundred things that have to get done today. Paperwork to finish, reports to file to make sure everything goes as it should. And much as I want to take you back to bed right now, nothing’s going to stop me from arresting Harley.”
Well that was a sufficient mood killer.
“That definitely takes priority. The sooner he’s off the streets, the better I’ll feel.”
“You and me both.”
They shoveled in the rest of breakfast in relative silence. Miranda thanked God that he understood she didn’t want endless inane chatter in the morning. By the time she’d finished and drained the coffee, she felt like she could face the day. Or at least the next four hours until she allowed herself another caffeine hit.
She showered—alone, sadly—and dressed for the day, while Ethan hopped in after her for what he promised would be a ninety-second rinse off. With a towel still wrapped around her hair, Miranda trotted back downstairs and went to get the paper.
As soon as she opened the door, the stench hit her square in the face.
“What the—”
Miranda looked down and promptly screamed.
Seconds later, Ethan came flying down the stairs, a towel wrapped around his hips, his service weapon in hand. He grabbed her, pivoting to put himself between her and danger. “What is it? What happened?”
She pointed to where the door was still open. “Front porch.”