“You sleep okay?”
I nod, still inhaling him. Why does he smell so damn good?
We pull apart and I feel a bit sheepish.
“Thanks for letting me stay over last night.”
Thatcher grins, slowly disentangles himself from my arms, and walks toward the coffee. I have to swallow hard when I see he’s already got a cup out for me, waiting.
“You were exhausted, Roe. There was no reason to go home.”
I nod, and don’t tell him how his house feels more like home to me than my own. I love it here.
I take the coffee from him, and it’s got the exact amount of cream that I like, just enough to make it look like hot cocoa and not coffee.
“Thanks.” I lean on the counter. “Sorry if I made it weird with Jamie, though. Staying over. We haven’t even talked about that.”
Thatcher comes up next to me. Close enough I can feel the warmth of his body.
“Jamie went to bed and then he left with Arch just a bit ago to watch the Knights game in the city this afternoon with Arch’s family. It’s a school holiday. So I doubt he even registered that you stayed.” Thatcher’s hands rest on my hips. “Did he wake you up?”
“Nah. I’m an early riser, so this is more than I’ve slept in for years.”
Thatcher frowns, and I can’t help but sit my coffee on the counter long enough to press a gentle thumb to the crease on his forehead.
“What are you worried about?
“I’m worried about how tired you were.”
“I always sleep like shit on the road. Hard to notice when you’re up all night partying, through, so it is kinda a new revelation.”
Thatcher huffs a laugh, and I pull him into a kiss.
It starts slow, familiar now that we’ve shared a few. Quick and hungry then low and wanting. Sweet.
There’s something different about this one, but the feel of Thatcher’s tongue against mine makes my head too dizzy to puzzle it out.
“I missed you,” I mumble against his lips.
Thatcher pulls back, like he needs the inches of distance and light to really read me.
“I was ready for you to be back before you left, Roe. And I liked having you in my bed last night.”
His words have a sultry promise to them, and I can’t help the smirk rising on my lips.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I run my fingers under his T-shirt, dancing lightly on the skin of his stomach. I’m trying to turn him on, but the slide of his skin against my fingertips has all my blood flowing south.
“Any chance that you might be interested in sending me back to your bed?”
Thatcher catches my mouth again with a surge of lust I can feel down to my toes. His kisses become nothing but promise and want, and I meet each one.
“What did you have in mind?” he growls.
“Your cock, my mouth. Please.” The thought of this has been burned in my brain after too many sleepless nights away from him.
