“Good for you.”
He chuckles. “Are you cranky?”
“Yes. Why are we waking up so early? You said you didn’t have to be in until nine.”
“I know.” He picks me up from my comfortable position. I’m entirely naked…not that I have an ounce of energy to care, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I wrap my legs around his waist, secure my arms tightly around his neck, and bury my head deep into the crook of his neck.
God, he smells good.
“Did you just smell me?”
“Yes,” I tell him truthfully, and he chuckles. “So tell me again why we’re up?”
He turns and kisses the tip of my nose. “I wanted time with you before we left and didn’t want to rush. I thought we could have breakfast together.”
Oh.
I smile to myself as he sits me on the counter and takes out a spare toothbrush.
“You know…” I laugh, waking me up a bit. “You’re so concerned about our age difference, yet you’re being very dad-like right now.”
He shrugs. “I like taking care of you. Open.” He holds out a toothbrush.
“Give that to me. I can brush my own teeth, Harrison.”
He stands there, back straight, all demanding, giving me a challenging look. “Open.”
“Fine.” He puts the toothbrush in my mouth and starts brushing, and I can’t help but laugh. “Stop, you’ll choke.” He chuckles at the ridiculousness of it all.
“You’re lucky I’m too tired to fight you this morning,” I mumble around the toothbrush.
“I would have won anyway,” he states confidently. “Spit.” I comply as he hands me a towel.
I wipe the excess off my face. “Thanks.”
“Well, I can say confidently this is another first for me. Brushing a woman’s teeth.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “Let’s go.”
He lifts me off the counter and takes my hand. “Harrison, I’m not eating naked.”
He stares at me long and hard like he wants to fight me on it, but that’s where I draw the line. He must be on drugs if he thinks I’d do that…especially with him fully clothed.
“Fine, here.” He hands me a robe from behind the door. “Your clothes are still drying.”
He guides me down the hall, and I stop short at the one door that looks entirely out of place in his home.
“Is this Claud’s room?” I ask, even though I already know the answer from the pink paint and ballerina pictures pinned on the door. “Can I see it?” His body tenses, and I realize I’m overstepping. I’m not even sure why I asked. “Come on, let’s go eat,” I tell him and try to pull him down the hall, covering up my intrusion attempt.
He shakes his head, and I see the wheels turning—to open or not to.
“Harrison, it’s okay. She’s off-limits, and I overstepped.” I tug on his hand. “Come.”
He shakes his head again, then opens the door. “You’re right, she is off-limits. It’s why I’ve never brought someone back here. But you’re different…” His voice fades off. “And you know Claudina already.”
Different? Different how?
Every single inch of me wants to overthink this…but I’m trying to act fucking cool.
Instead, I focus on the masterpiece in front of me.
