My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I reach for it carefully, trying not to disturb her, but the movement makes her shift against me. She nuzzles into my neck, her lips brushing my throat.
A groan escapes before I can stop it.
Text from Sean:Brewery delivery at 7. Don’t be late.
Fuck. I need to leave this warm bed, leave my mate who’s currently using me as her personal pillow, and go to work. The thought is physically painful. My bear claws at me to stay, to pull her under me, to spend the morning showing her exactly how much we missed her yesterday.
I trace my finger along the curve of her hip where the sheet has slipped down, revealing smooth skin that begs to be kissed.
She makes a small sound in her sleep, pressing closer, and her scent intensifies. Warm and sweet and tinged with arousal that’s making my mouth water.
“Where are you going?”
Her voice is husky with sleep as I try to ease away. Her arm tightens around my waist, holding me in place.
“Work. Delivery coming in early.”
I lean down, unable to resist pressing my lips to her forehead, breathing her in. The simple contact isn’t enough. I want to taste every inch of her.
“Go back to sleep.”
“Mmm.” She stretches against me, her whole body arching in a way that presses her breasts against my chest. The sheet slips lower. “Don’t want you to go.”
Neither do I. God, neither do I. Not when she’s warm and pliant and smells like heaven. Not when every cell in my body is screaming at me to stay, to pull her under me and show her exactly how much I want her.
“I have to.” The words come out rougher than intended. “Sean’s already there…”
She opens her eyes then, those green depths still hazy with sleep, and reaches up to touch my face. Her fingers trace my jaw, and I feel the touch like electricity down my spine.
I turn into her palm, pressing a kiss there.
“You need to shave,” she murmurs, but her thumb brushes my lower lip, and her pupils dilate. Her breathing quickens.
“Carla...” Warning and plea mixed together.
“I know.” She sighs, dropping her hand, but her fingers trail down my chest as she does, nails scraping lightly through my chest hair.
My abs clench under her touch.
“Go. Before I do something that makes you really late.”
I force myself out of bed, hyperaware of her eyes following me, as I gather my clothes.
She makes a small sound. Whether it’s disappointment or appreciation, I can’t tell. The jeans I wore yesterday are across the room, evidence of how quickly we’d fallen into bed last night, not even bothering with the pretense of the pillow wall.
“Billy?”
I turn back. She’s propped on one elbow now, the sheet barely covering her, hair tumbling around her shoulders. The sight punches me in the gut. Want and need and mine all tangle together.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe you should bring some clothes here. Save you the morning rush.”
She tries for casual, but I catch the hope in her eyes, the way her fingers twist nervously in the sheet. Her teeth catch her lower lip.
“Your toothbrush is already here, anyway.”
