Pretend You're Mine (Inked Hearts 3)

Her gaze goes to the clock on the microwave. “Shit. You’re right.”

“You could have eaten breakfast instead of putting on makeup.”

“Girl’s got to have priorities.”

“Here.” I find one of those individually packed bags of nuts in the pantry. And a banana. Hand both to her.

“What do I do with this?”

“You want to get creative with it?”

“No. I…” Her cheeks flush. “You’re pushy.”

“That news?”

“No. But I didn’t realize you were this obsessed with feeding me.”

“Someone has to do it.”

She slides the snack into her bag, pushes herself up, slips on her shoes. “I’m glad it’s you.”

I want it to be more.

I want to keep waking up next to her.

To keep fixing her coffee, and cooking her dinner, and wrapping my arms around her.

I try to shake it off as I slide into my shoes, but the idea sticks in my head.

It gets brighter, bolder, bigger as we climb into my car.

I turn the key, let the latest pop hit masquerading as rock fill the car, pull onto the street.

Leighton takes another long sip of her coffee.

Her moan fills the car.

It drowns out the music.

And every one of my thoughts.

It takes every ounce of my attention to focus on driving. Santa Monica College is close, but traffic is already clogging the roads. It’s not as bad in the morning, especially not this early, but it’s enough to slow us down.

She lets out another low moan.

I stop at a light. “You fucking that or drinking it?”

“Can I really?” She draws a heart on the thermos. “Or could I skip right to marriage? This is like sex, Ryan.”

“It’s been too long since you’ve had sex.”

“That hurts coming from you.”

“Even I know coffee can’t compare to sex.”

“Maybe. Or maybe sex is overrated.”

I shake my head. “No fucking way.”