A slow smile spread across his face.“Morning.”
“Hi.”I felt my own lips curve slightly.
His gaze dipped again, clearly appreciating his own clothes on me.
“Gotta say, trouble,” he added, voice low, his hands drifting down my back and squeezing my ass, “my stuff looks good on you.”
I huffed softly, rolling my eyes even as heat crept up my neck.“You’re insufferable.”
“Mhm,” he hummed, completely unbothered.“That wasn't the word you were using last night.”
My lips pressed together as I shot him a look.“Don’t start.”
That only made his smirk deepen.
“You screamed my name so loud I think—”
“Jaxon!”
“Thereit is.Yep, exactly like that.”
I shook my head and tried to pull away, but his grip didn't loosen.
“Okay, okay, I'll behave,” he swore, but the proud smile on his lips promised mischief.
“Good boy.”
His eyes darkened and he raised a brow at me as he tugged me closer.“Trouble, no doubt you're sore right now, but if you call me that again, I'm bending you over on this counter so you see how much of agood boyI can be.”
My fingers tightened slightly in his shirt, willing my body to melt at the very thought.How could I still be sore and aching for him at the same time?
“So.”I cleared my throat, tone shifting just a fraction.“Who do you owe a favor to?”
He let out a quiet laugh at that, the sound low and warm as his hands finally slid back up to rest at my waist.
“I'll tell you over breakfast.Trust me, you're gonna need food for that one.”
Now it was my turn to raise a brow.
“Why does that sound like I should be concerned?”
He brushed a thumb across my waist and leaned in to peck my lips.
“Let's just say Lori shouldn't have poked the bear.”
“What does that mean?Wait, did you—”
“Food.Sit.”
I gasped when he slapped my ass, which had him chuckling deeply.He moved around the counter, grabbing a plate and a fork, pointing it at me then at the barstool.I rolled my eyes and moved to sit, watching him fix a plate with waffles, eggs, toast, and sausages.
Then he poured a cup of coffee.
“Unfortunately, since you took me by surprise last night, I don't have any cinnamon.”
“That's okay, as long as it's not that terrible black coffee you love,” I said, shrugging.“How do you have a sweet tooth and love that cup of bitterness?”
He laughed and finished adding milk and sugar to the coffee before sliding it to me.
