Dylan turned to face him, grinning when he reached out and hauled her against him so her head rested on his shoulder. She snuggled closer, draping her arm over his waist.
"I don't know if I should," she said. "I have to go to work tomorrow."
"What time?"
"Ten."
"Stay," he said. "I'll get you up early enough to get home and get ready."
"Okay," she agreed.
As she cuddled closer, she smiled to herself. He wanted her to stay. Considering she was already half in love with him, the knowledge warmed her.
"You can stay tomorrow night too, if you want."
Dylan laughed softly. "We'll see. You might snore or hog the blankets or something."
"Hey, I'm a troll. Of course I snore."
She tilted her head back so she could look up into his face.
"Are you serious?" she asked, laughing.
"I'd say no but you'll find out soon enough that it's a lie."
She pressed a kiss to his chest. "That's okay. I sleep like the dead anyway."
"Then you're perfect for me."
Dylan rolled her eyes, but smiled in spite of herself.
"But I'm not sleepy yet," he continued.
"Oh, really?"
"No. But I am hungry."
"Can we eat in bed?" she asked.
"See? Perfect for me," he repeated.
"But you're getting the food, right?"
He sighed in mock frustration. "I guess so."
"Hey, you've heard that saying. If your woman can get up and make you a sandwich after sex, you didn't do it right."
He stared down at her with big eyes. "No, I've never heard that."
"Well, I can't get up, so that should tell you something."
Clay eyed her speculatively. "Are you just saying that because you want me to go get the snacks?"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean it's not true."
He groaned and rolled out of bed, grabbing a pair of shorts out of the dresser to his left and slipping them on. "I can see you're going to be a lot of work."
Dylan threw a pillow at his back. "What happened to being perfect for you?"
