The next thing I wanted was her, sleep-rumpled and well-sated, moaning softly as she sipped her favorite coffee, a latte with lots of foam. I’d paid attention to her orders and ensured I had all the proper ingredients on hand. I padded out of my suite and down the hall to the guest room nearest the stairs, where I showered and brushed my teeth with the extra I kept stocked there, hoping the distance would allow Zaila to sleep longer. My plan faltered when I realized I didn’t have a change of clothes or a robe to put on, so I went downstairs in a towel, hoping to find something to put on in the laundry room. My housekeeper proved too efficient, though, so with a sigh, I padded into the kitchen, shivering slightly as the cool air blew across my skin.
I started the coffee machine, making myself an espresso before pressing the series of buttons that would create Zaila’s frothy drink. While I waited, I drank a large glass of water and noted that the bluejays in the backyard had pecked away all the birdseed once again. With a mental note to get more for the feeder, I picked up my coffee and sipped, enjoying the sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy that towered over my backyard.
Houston had taken some getting used to because it was large and not just American, but boldly Texan. That had created both a culture and climate shock when I’d first arrived. Now, while I still enjoyed other locations more—the city was built on a swamp and didn’t have the gorgeous topography of my native Sweden—I’d learned to appreciate the city’s arts and culture and its more modest topographical beauty.
I loved my hockey team and my house, and I was growing more certain I could love the woman in my bed, so Houston felt more and more like home.
The machine gurgled to a stop, and I picked up Zaila’s mug. Carrying one coffee in each hand, I headed back up the stairs to my sleeping beauty.
I settled both our coffees on my nightstand and went to find a pair of sweatpants. I slid them on as I heard the bedsheets rustle, and I hurried back to the main room in time to see Zaila lift her head, squinting at the light. She was mussed adorably in a way that made my chest ache. Her gaze found me as I sat on the mattress, sliding in close to run my hand along her sleep-warmed cheek.
“Morning,” I murmured, threading my fingers into her thick hair.
“Good morning.” Her eyes smiled up at me even before her lips lifted. “I hope I’m not keeping you from something.”
“Not a place I’d rather be,” I assured her. “I made you a coffee.”
Her eyes widened as I picked it up and handed it to her. She scooted upward to lean against the pillows and took a long sip. Her upper lip was soon coated in foam that she licked off before breathing out a contented sigh. “This is so good. Thank you, Gunnar.”
I smiled as I joined her in leaning against the headboard and the pillows. “You’re welcome.” I took a much smaller sip of my espresso. “I loved waking up to you in my bed. I plan to do this often, just so you know.”
Her smile widened. “It’s my favorite wake-up, too.”
We sipped our coffees in pleasurable silence before Zaila set down her empty mug. “I should probably get cleaned up.”
“Sure.” I waited a beat. “Mind if I join you?”
“Didn’t you already shower?” She rose from the bed in all her nude glory, heading toward the bathroom door.
“Yeah, but I thought you might need some help with working the controls. Or with washing in some places. Or with any desire that built up overnight.”
She giggled. “You know, I might. Give me a few to…” She trailed off as her cheeks bloomed pink. “I’ll open the door when I’m ready for your company.”
I settled back, running my hand down my abs. I enjoyed watching Zaila’s gaze follow. “I’ll be waiting.”
Shower sex was better than anticipated, and I’d anticipated a lot. We got ready in a soft, post-orgasmic haze. Zaila was a no-nonsense woman, so she didn’t bother with an hour-long hair and makeup routine. That said, I was waiting in the kitchen, having enjoyed a second espresso and more antics between the birds and the squirrels, when Zaila joined me. Her outfit today was a simple shorts-and-top set that showcased her long, tanned legs, narrow waist, and the tops of her shoulders.
“What’s that called?” I asked, pointing to her outfit.
“A romper. I love them when it’s hot out because they’re so comfortable.”
“You look great. Green’s an excellent color for you.”
She smiled as she stepped in closer and laid her hand on my chest. Then, she paused, almost as if she weren’t sure she should proceed.
“I hope you’re going to kiss me, and I hope it’s going to last a while.” I settled my hand over hers. “Because I’d really like that.”
She rose on her toes in her gold sandals until her lips touched mine.
I held her close with my free hand, my palm settling on the top curve of her ass, and kissed her some more.
“Gunnar,” Zaila said against my lips.
“Yeah?” I didn’t want to pull back.
“I need to call my mother.” She blinked up at me, worry clouding her eyes. “She’s probably fine, but?—”
“You need to be sure. I get that. Call her and let her know we’re bringing over brunch.”
