“Come back here,” I protest, rolling to my side and looking up at him standing next to my bed.
“I can’t get back in the bed with you or I’m never getting out of it. And I’m guessing I can’t get you to call in sick.”
No, I really can’t, though a day in bed with Oz sounds wonderful.
“What did you mean you already did?” I question, going back to him saying he already came.
He smiles, leaning down over me. I grab his tie, pulling him closer, and his smile grows bigger, showing his dimples. He clearly likes me wanting him.
“I’m going to use the hall bathroom to clean myself up,” he says before closing the distance between our mouths for a lazy sweet kiss that is over too quickly. I release his tie and he pulls me up from the bed. He came in his pants? The thought has me tingling again. Can men come from a little dry humping?
“I brought you breakfast. Get ready, baby.” He places a kiss on the top of my head and leaves the room. I bite my lip as a smile tries to take over my face.
Wanting to have as much time as I can with him before work, I discard my T-shirt and panties and dart to the bathroom. I washed my hair last night, so I need to wash my body. I make quick work of my shower and brushing my teeth.
When I step back into my room, Oz is lying in the center of my bed, his back against the headboard as he sips a coffee. I see another sitting on the bedside table.
“It’s yours.” He nods to the coffee. I reach down and pick it up, taking a sip. Of course it’s how I like my coffee.
He watches me take a drink, and a little flutter invades my stomach.
“How do you take your coffee?” He diverts his eyes from me for a second, then they come back to mine.
“I used to take it black.”
“And now?”
“I take it with lots of cream, lots of sugar and a dash of cinnamon.”
I freeze, not sure how to respond to his statement that he now takes his coffee like mine.
“I wanted to taste what you tasted every morning and now I can’t stop. Can’t seem to stop a lot of things when it comes to you.”
Why is this so adorable? Even more so that Oz felt a little shy about admitting it. I don’t think this man is shy about anything.
I make my way over to my dresser, looking at him in the mirror as I pull open the top drawer. I find a baby-blue lace bra and matching panties. I think about how it will match his shirt, and even though it’s ridiculous, I want us to match.
I don’t know where I get the inner power, but I look up in the mirror at him and drop my towel. I watch him as his whole body freezes. I don’t break eye contact in the mirror as I bend over, slipping on the pale blue, lacy panties. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I straighten and then put on the matching bra.
I turn and look at him, but he doesn’t say anything. He almost looks mad as he sits there on the bed, gripping his coffee. Awkwardly, I bite my lip and head for the bathroom.
“Don’t shut that,” he says in his deep voice before I can close the bathroom door. The way the bathroom is positioned, he can see the sink area from where he’s sitting. “I want to watch you.”
It’s then I realize he isn’t mad. He wants me, and he’s fighting himself. It’s almost empowering that I have this kind of hold on him. That I can do this to him makes some of my shyness drop away.
“You want to watch me get ready?” I ask. The request seems odd and as intimate as what we did moments ago in bed.
“Yes.”
I study him for a second but release my hold on the door, pushing it all the way open. I go over to the sink where I get ready. I apply my makeup. After that’s finished, I pin my hair up how he likes. Every time I look at him in the bathroom mirror, he’s got his eyes on me.
When I’m finished, I turn around, leaning against the sink.
“Was that enjoyable for you?” I tease.
“Another something I could get used to doing every morning,” he says, setting his coffee down next to mine on the bedside table.
He moves to the edge of the bed, and I walk out of the bathroom toward him. I go up to him and move between his legs, and this time he has to look up at me. His big hands grip my hips before he leans forward and places a kiss on my stomach. I run my fingers through his dark wavy hair, the thick locks silky between my fingers.