She groaned before slapping my shoulder. “Then stop fucking teasing me.”
I laughed, watching her tug the sheet over her chest. Her attempt at a glare only made her look all the more sexy. Most men would cower under such an intense glower from a powerful woman, but it just made me love her more. It made me want every morning like this for the rest of my life. Playful and sexy and perfect.
“Don’t laugh at me because I’m dick deprived. It’s been a whole six hours since you’ve been inside me, and here you are, getting me all wet for nothing.”
“Oh, you’re wet, are you?” I asked, slipping my hand under the sheet.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she threatened, slapping my hand away from her thigh. “Go shower. I want to sit on your cock until I come.”
“I want you to sit on my face.”
“I can do that, too.”
I almost laughed again at her regal declaration and pursed lips.
“Good. Let me shower, and I’ll be right back.”
I leaned in to snatch a kiss, and when I pulled back, she chased me. It was painful, but I didn’t let her catch me. I wanted to tease her every second I could. I hoped if I left her wanting enough, she’d join me in the shower. I was sure she’d come. Especially after the way she groaned about my tight ass being too delicious to resist as I strutted naked to the bathroom.
But she never came.
When I came back out, I found her propped against the headboard with pillows, the sheet pulled over her chest while she scrolled through her phone and drank a coffee. As soon as she noticed me enter, she set the phone aside and smiled.
Again, I was hit with how perfect it all was. This perfect blend of my best friend being playful and fun, but also the seductive woman watching me with heat and need. In the mix, I saw the want—the love—but I ignored it, too scared to give it more attention and sink in deep before she saw it herself.
“I got you a coffee. I even added all the sugar and disgusting snickerdoodle creamer you love,” she scoffed. “How does a man as big and masculine as you like such a sweet drink?”
I stripped out of my towel and crawled into bed beside her, mirroring her position, and grabbed the coffee she made just for me. With a cocked brow, I looked down at her cup. “How does a girl like you end up drinking coffee black?”
“Black like my soul,” she said with waggling brows.
“Ha. Ha,” I mocked, rolling my eyes. “See, I drink coffee out of necessity which means adding an obscene amount of sugar to it. No one drinks coffee black because they need to.”
“I don’t know. I just always did.” She looked down at the cup, studying the black liquid with furrowed brows. “Maybe because my mom mentioned that my dad loved sugary coffees, and I never wanted anything in common with him, so I never added anything. My stubbornness forced me into drinking it black.”
“Sounds like a super valid reason,” I conceded sarcastically.
She laughed but didn’t add anything besides a shrug. Seeing an opening to get to know a deeper side of Rae, I latched on and gently prodded.
“You never talk about your dad.”
“There’s not much to talk about.”
“I could list a million things to talk about.”
“A million?” she asked with exaggerated shock.
I laughed at her dramatics, loving everything about this moment. I craved every second I could have inside her, but these small conversations are what made us, us. These were the moments that had me believing we could make it as husband and wife. Early morning conversations, naked in bed with coffee, and getting to know each other with playful banter.
“For instance, I know your dad isn’t your biological father, but I have no idea how he and your mom met.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes before she looked away. While she studied her coffee, I studied her, holding my breath, silently begging for her to open up. Rae told me a lot—unfortunately, more than I wanted to know. Like every detail about her period or how her dates went, but she brushed off anything about her past.
Maybe now that she’d seen my past, and we had a future stretched out in front of us, she would be comfortable enough to tell me.
“It’s nothing romantic or anything,” she muttered, shrugging. “They met at a women’s shelter when we were all there volunteering. Dad always volunteered because it was where his grandma stayed when she needed help. And Mom made it a point to give her time to them once we got back on our feet because they took us in when we had nowhere else to go after my mom finally left my abusive father.”