Part of me still does.
Zach had insisted we take a shower together afterward, murmuring in my ear that aftercare is just as important.
If I can receive Zach level of aftercare for the rest of my life, I’m all for it. I one hundred percent agree that aftercare is just as important as the act of sex itself.
Laying across his chest after our shower and a little snack he’d insisted I eat, I’d almost said it.
But that’s crazy, right? I told myself last night it was just the endorphins and emotional upheaval of the moment making me feel like that.
Only now, in the quiet gray of the morning, I admit it wasn’t just that. I do feel it.
Like, with my whole damn chest, do I feel it.
I know just by the temperature of the bed next to me and the stillness of the room that I’m alone. The door is cracked open, and I can smell bacon being fried. My stomach growls.
My bladder is screaming at me. Sighing, I push the comforter off, shivering at the slight chill in the room.
Climbing out of the bed, I pull on the same navy blue Petoskey Fire Department t-shirt from last night, the hem hitting high on my thighs. I cringe at the thought of putting on my panties from last night, so, I don’t. I also forego pants. He’ll like that.
Rifling through Zach’s dresser drawer, I find a pair of tall tube socks and pull them on my chilled toes, the socks coming up to my knees. I pad out of the bedroom door to the bathroom, admiring Zach’s naked back where he stands at the stove before my bladder reminds me I have to peenow.
After relieving myself, I wash my hands and make a face at the absolute mess that is my hair. Sleeping on wet hair is never a good idea, nor had I braided it like I usually do to contain the tresses. Combing through it with my fingers, I smooth it the best I can and then loop it into a loose braid over my shoulder. It’ll have to do.
Exiting the bathroom, I join Zach in the kitchen. He glances at me over one of those broad, muscular shoulders, shooting me a lopsided smile, and I can’t help but swoon a little.
He’s just so unfairly handsome.
There’s no way this man wants me, right?
Iknowhe does…obviously. So why am I still skeptical?
Whyyyydo I still feel like I’m waiting for that other shoe to drop, like always?
He’d said last night that I was a dream that he didn’t have the right to want to keep once he woke up… but maybeI’mthe one that’s dreaming? There’s just no way that I’ve fallen for him this fast—and trust me, I knowallabout falling fast.
It’s a talent, truly.
“Good morning, my beautiful girl,” he says, wrapping one arm around my shoulders when I step up close to him. He flips the bacon in the pan with a pair of tongs in his other hand.
I encircle his waist with my arms, resting my head on his chest and inhaling deeply. Zach and bacon. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and I close my eyes. God, why do I love that so much? I never want this to end. Can this please never end?
“I don’t think I said it last night, but I really like seeing you in my shirts.”
Tipping my head back, I smile up at him. “I like wearing your shirts.”
His hand moves from my shoulder to my ass, sliding the hem of the shirt up until he can grab a handful of my left cheek. He smooths his palm over it, then breathes, “No panties, Princess? Naughty.”
I shrug. “Figured you’d like it.”
“I likeyou.”
My heart trips inside my chest, skipping a beat before thundering back to life.
Be cool, Lou. Jesus be cool.
Squeezing tighter around his middle, I whisper, “I like you, more.”
His palm grabs hold again, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass cheek. “That’s debatable.”
