Fuck.
“You get the bathroom, I’ll get coffee,” he muttered.
“Then you get the bathroom, and I’ll pour us coffee.How doyou take yours?”
“Two sugars.”
“Mwrrr!” cameangrily from the side of the bed.
They grinned at each other.
“Quarter can wet food, honey,” she ordered.“Be sure tobreak it up.”
“Gotcha,” he replied.
He touched his mouth to hers, then he got that cute, littlesqueal when he dragged them both out of bed.
They each did their thing, and apparently, she did reallylike his bed because they were going to talk there.
He knew this because, when he was done in the bathroom, hecame out to see her cross-legged in it, Murtagh curled in her lap, her fingershooked through a coffee mug, his steaming on the nightstand.
He moved that way.
She checked out his body when he did, and pure Georgie, didnot hide she liked what she saw.
He was wearing a pair of dark-red sleep shorts with a blackdrawstring and that was it.
Last night, and right now, he’d not missed she was makinganother play with her wardrobe decisions considering he doubted she usuallywore what she had on now to bed.
Halter top, all lace up there, cut low, lots of cleavage,semi-sheer skirt, not lace, but super short.
His girl.
He smiled at her, got into bed, put his back to theheadboard, legs stretched out, and Murtagh made what Dutch thought was alunatic decision.
This being, he defected from Georgie’s lap to take residenceon Dutch’s abs.
“You’re stealing my-cat-not-my-cat,” Georgie accused.
“Cut the crap, babe, he’s your cat,” Dutch replied,simultaneously reaching for his coffee and stroking the cat.
“Whatever,” she mumbled and shifted so she was angled hisway, one knee resting on his hip.
Okay.
Here we go.
Shit.
“Dutch—”
“No offense, darlin’, but you won’t get it,” he said gently.
“I know that, but I think you need to explain it to meanyway,” she returned, just as gently.
He drew in breath and let out a big sigh.
Then, instead of explaining, mostly because he had no cluewhat to say, he took a sip of coffee.
