Pretend You're Mine (Inked Hearts 3)
Page 193
She makes a show of crossing her fingers. “Never.”
“Believable.”
She laughs. “Thanks.” She pushes herself onto her elbows. Turns to check the time on the microwave. “It’s not really ten. Tell me it isn’t ten.”
I slide off the bed. Grab my cell from the dining table. “It is.”
She lets out one of those I want to sleep forever groans.
“You’re off today. Go back to bed.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m working later.”
“How much later?”
“One.”
“That’s only three hours.”
“Still plenty of time.” I offer my hand. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”
She smooths her loose tank top. Adjusts her cotton panties. Both are white. Sheer. Inviting as fuck. “I’m not going anywhere until I take care of this travesty.” She twirls a silver-purple strand around her finger.
“Travesty?”
“I don’t have a stronger word.” She slides off the bed. Tugs at the drawstrings of my pajama pants. “Can I destroy these?”
“I have more.”
“And those too?”
“You want me naked, ask.”
She bites her lip as she gives me a long, slow once-over. When other women look at me like this, I get irritated. But there’s something about the delight in Leighton’s eyes.
It’s intoxicating.
“Tempting.” She drags her fingertips over my stomach. “But something tells me I won’t get my hair done if you’re naked.”
“Something?”
“Experience.” She rises to her toes to press her lips to my forehead. “I’m going to get ready. We can have breakfast here. Hang until you need to leave.”
“I’ll make coffee.”
She blows me a kiss, spins on her heels, moves into the bathroom.
There’s actual food in her fridge—I dragged her to Trader Joe’s last night. She deserves all of it. She deserves a feast. I settle on scrambled eggs.
I scoop coffee into the French press, set the electric kettle to boil, gather the ingredients for breakfast.
Steam fills the air.
I pour hot water over coffee.
The smell of java fills the room as I chop. Then it’s tomatoes and bell peppers. Eggs.