Crazy in Love

A smile creases my cheeks. I’d already planned on it since I fell asleep, but knowing she wants me to has me feeling like an Olympic gold medalist. “I’ll stay.” Can’t sound too eager, though. Wouldn’t want to feed the ego she wears like armor. I like when her defenses are down, and I get to spend time with the woman she really is instead of what she wants the world to believe.

When she lies next to me, we stare into each other’s eyes. “If you need to use the bathroom . . .”

“I’ll be right back.”

She nods, and then her eyes close just before I slip out of bed. I don’t take long in the bathroom and even score a little finger scrub with toothpaste to clean my teeth and have fresher breath. I splash water on my tired face, dry my hands, and then run my hands through my hair. I’m not sure if she’s up for more fun, but I’m not opposed to as much action as she craves.

Taking a second, I push my palms down against the marble counter. The exhilaration of getting what you want after so long and then having her like no other woman I’ve been with—no barrier between us, just pure heat and lust, desire and Tatum—causes my heart to beat hard in my chest. “Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes closed and try to calm back down before returning.

I look at myself once more, push my hair back, and return to the bedroom only to find her asleep. Guess I got my answer regarding the rest of the night.

I slip under the covers. Clearly, she’s a woman used to sleeping in her own bed by how she sleeps in the middle of it. I keep my chuckle under wraps and then move next to her. My eyes slowly adjust to the dark again, and I can just make out her delicate features. She’s a stunner with makeup, but without, she’s truly breathtaking. I can’t believe I’m the one who gets the privilege of seeing her stripped down to nothing.

So fucking lucky.

I take my watch off my wrist and set it on her nightstand next to a book and an alarm clock. Though she’s facing me, I pull her close, leaving no room between us, her breathing remaining steady as she stirs and readjusts with her head resting on my shoulder.

In the quiet of the room, I can only hear the matching cadence of our breathing. I realize I don’t mind that she fell asleep since I get to hold her like this. I kiss her on the top of her head and then fall asleep.

11

Tatum

I shouldn’t like a strong arm around me like I’m captive to this bed.

But I do.

Or maybe it’s just him that I like so much. He’s so warm, and I can’t resist staying curled up against him as though I’ve been left out in the cold too long. Huh. Wonder if there’s some truth to that. Something to ponder when I’m fully awake.

For someone who can sleep in, I see this time of morning too often. To-dos and random stress, even loneliness creep in at the most annoying times of the day.

Judging by the faintest light of the sunrise I spy through a crack in my curtains, I’m guessing it’s around five thirty or six. Go to sleep, Devreux.

That’s not what has me awake, though. Loneliness is the furthest thing on my mind when it comes to Harrison Decker being in my bed.

I wish I could see his face, but I’m too content to make the effort to turn around. Sigh. I close my eyes, dearly wanting to accept this moment for what it is.

Comfort.

Warmth.

Shelter.

Cold air rolls over my skin, leaving goose bumps in the wake. I tuck my arm under the covers and tug them higher. Rolling to the other side, I catch a whiff of something in the air.

Coffee?

Bacon?

Harrison?

Harrison! I open my eyes in a flash when last night finally returns to the forefront of my mind and find the bed empty beside me. Flipping the covers off, I get to my feet and grab my robe from the chair where I left it draped. The silky material slides down my arms, and I fasten the belt around my waist. I reach the living room when I’m pulling my hair out from the collar and freeing it to lay on top.

Judging by the sunlight flooding the apartment, morning is in full swing. As is Harrison cooking at the stove. “What are you doing?” I ask.

He looks back over his shoulder. It’s then that I regret not taking the time to appreciate the sight of him prior to disrupting him. “Good morning, sunshine. You hungry? We never did get around to eating last night.”

Resting my middle against the counter of the peninsula, I ask, “Did I not satisfy your appetite?” I don’t know why I lick my lips. Gah. He gets my feminine wiles going. It’s probably how sexy he looks shirtless while holding that spatula in his hand. The black thigh-length briefs don’t hurt either. The way the waistband clings to that V of his lower stomach like I did last night . . . yeah, I bite my lower lip and admire him while I can.