“Am not.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Tell me what you need.”
What I want from her would be a selfish desire. It would be about alleviating my hurt.
“Okay, then let’s get you to bed.”
“Will you stay tonight?” I ask, not bothered that I sound needy.
Her features soften as she nods.
In the bedroom, she picks up my discarded T-shirt and goes into the bathroom.
I flop on my king-sized bed, with my arms crossed behind my neck. When she comes out, all thoughts vanish as my eyes trail along her bare feet. She looks sexy as fuck and all mine wearing my T-shirt that hits her mid-thigh. Fire blazes through me, burning me up. I swallow hard, trying to contain this incessant desire.
She climbs into bed, slipping under the covers while I want to slip my hands under the shirt and touch her everywhere. It takes every bit of control to restrain myself and not give in, knowing she could make this perpetual ache bearable. If I only were a weaker, more selfish man…
She rolls on her side, and I mirror her position. We stare at each other until our lids grow heavy.
“I like this,” I whisper.
She kisses my cheek. “I like this too.”
You feel like home.With that scary yet comforting thought, I fall asleep.
Waking to my nagging alarm,I peel my eyes open to find that she’s not next to me. Groaning, I shut off the alarm and go in search of her.
She’s on the phone. The kitchen island looks like a crime scene, food carnage everywhere. There are at least a dozen eggshells, leaving sticky trails all over the counter.
“It’s been two minutes,” Lilly says, annoyance clear in her voice.
“Girl, it’s an omelet. Just flip it over and when it’s a nice brown, it’s done,” Kat sighs in the speakers.
She pinches the bridge of her nose, groaning. “I don’t have another egg if I mess this up. I used them all.”
Leaning against the opposite wall, I burst out laughing. She’s cute even when she’s frustrated.
“I have to go. Bye”
She hangs up when she notices me, and I go over to her.
She huffs. “I suck at this.”
On pure instinct, I wrap my arms around her and kiss the spot where her shoulder meets her neck. “I appreciate the gesture.”
“Does it look good to you?” she asks, nose crinkling.
Staring at her adorable profile, my heart does a backflip. “It looks perfect to me.”
She flips the omelet on two plates, handing me one. I prepare myself. Lilly has many talents, but cooking is not one of them. But as I bring the fork to my mouth while she looks at me expectantly, I would swallow battery acid.
The omelet is actually good, and I moan to show her that. She claps excitedly and when she takes a bite, she says, “Hmm, it’s edible. Maybe I’m not a lost cause.”
“That you definitely aren’t.”
Her brows furrow. “It would help if you pointed out what I could improve, but you even ate that uncooked chicken and vegetables.”
We finish breakfast, and she bends over, kissing me on my cheek.
