“Uh-huh,” I squeak.
“How you lookin at me with your eyes closed?”
I peel them open and his handsome face is the first thing they land on. He bites into his bottom lip and stops grinding inside of me to grab my leg and pull it next to his face.
He presses his lips to my ankle, then peppers my foot with light kisses. “You see how much better this is? This is how I wanna make love to you. I need to see you, and I need you to see me. You see what you do to me? You see how weak you make me? You see how much I love you?”
CHAPTER
FORTY
RICH
Wakingup after a night inside Slim ain’t the same as waking up after a night in the pit.
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Mmm…”
I taste her.
Shit, I can’t even inhale without smelling her and…bacon, I think?
If it wasn’t for the music playing and her terrible ass singing creeping from under the bathroom door, I would’ve sworn she made love to me all night then left me.
A cool breeze blows through the crack in my bedroom window, tickling my legs. I glance down and find my flat sheet covering the lower half of my naked body. I can’t even remember the last time I slept butt-ass naked, but Slim likes to sleep skin to skin with her tiny body pressed into my side.
“Slim,” I rasp. “Why you got the window open?”
I try to push up, but my muscles are heavy and stiff like I did a thousand rounds of shadow boxing yesterday. “Fuck. Slim!”
“I’m coming!”
I blow a breath through my nose and fall back.
Music trickles into our bedroom from Smitty’s. The different beats clash because she’s playing soft R&B, and he’s playing blues.
She bursts out of the bathroom in a black sweater and tight black jeans.
“Can I have the right side of the vanity?” she asks. “And more shelves in the closet? You think Smitty can help with that?”
She’s a mess in the morning—a good mess, though.
I watch her through heavy lids as she clunks around my room in those boots she wore to the gym on my birthday with a big roller stuck at the very front of her head.
“Baby?” I huff, letting my head fall back against my pillow and staring at the ceiling.
“Mhmm?”
“How many shelves?”
“I don’t know. Six? I need somewhere to put my fabric.”
The bed creaks and sinks beside my feet, but I can’t lift my head to see what she’s doing.
“Are you trying to get out of bed?” she murmurs, pressing her hand into my sore stomach, then straddling me.
I nod.
“Why do you want to do that?”
