“How long have you been awake?” I ask him.
“All night. I wanted to watch you sleep.”
He rolls us so he can kiss me good morning. It’s soft and slow and makes me melt like warmed wax.
The leather of the sofa creaks and squeaks with our movements and wakes Mason, who passed out sitting up at the L bend of the couch.
“Aw, fuck,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t feel my face.”
I hold my finger to my lips and gesture to a still-sleeping Harper on the floor. She had piled several pillows around her in a makeshift pallet and crashed sometime after three. I think Chase slept in his own bed and Mike in one of the guest rooms, but I’m not sure.
“I’m already awake,” Harper mumbles into the pillow smooshing her face. “You need to do something about your snoring. I’m talking chainsaws.”
“I don’t snore,” Mason protests.
“Wasn’t referring to you.”
“It wasn’t me… was it?”
Harper flops over onto her back, both eyebrows raised. Oh, dear, lord. It was me.
Jordan brushes his nose along my temple. “More like baby puppy whimpers. Totally adorable.”
Affronted, I argue, “Snoring is not adorable!”
“Coffee time,” Chase announces, carrying a two-handled tray with six steaming mugs.
Harper bounds up, suddenly full of energy. “Gimme, gimme.” She grabs one of the mugs and guzzles it like ice water. She must have no nerve endings in her mouth to be able to drink something that hot, that quickly.
Mason takes his, and Chase sets the tray down on the glass and wood coffee table.
Harper’s phone goes off. “Oh! It’s Bennett. I’ll just—” She spins around, hands Chase her coffee, and grabs her phone. “—Take this… somewhere else.”
“No video hanky-panky. You’re a guest in someone’s house.” Jordan chuckles when she kisses her middle finger and blows.
“Hey, baby! How was your flight?” we hear her say as the front door opens then closes.
Jordan sits us up and repositions our bodies so I’m cross legged between his spread thighs, using me to cover his very hard morning erection. I circle my hips and grind into him, smiling when he hisses between his teeth.
“You’ll pay for that,” he whispers in my ear and takes the new mug Chase offers him. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Chase shoves his hands into the side pockets of his khaki dress slacks.
Awkward silence fills the room.
“Mind if I join you?”
“It’s your house,” Jordan replies, handing me the coffee like we’re playing a game of round-robin with the mug.
Chase looks at the empty space on the couch but doesn’t sit down. Jordan’s hands come around my waist to splay on my crossed legs.
“Look,” they say at the same time.
“Go ahead,” Chase tells him.
“No. It’s okay. You go first.”
