I pressed my forehead against his chest.
This was exactly how women ended up ruining their lives.
They relaxed for five minutes, allowed someone to take care of them for a day or two. That, in turn, led to their brains being flooded with extremely stupid hormones and feelings about safety and stability, then suddenly they were rearranging their entire emotional infrastructure around a man who probably just thought this was a pleasant detour.
My throat tightened. I hated that feeling. The stupid fragile one that lived right under my ribs and always appeared when something good happened. My brain immediately started calculating how long it would take before it disappeared.
Because it always did.
I lay there another moment, very still.
Liam’s hand moved absently over my back before settling on my waist again. The quiet steadiness of that movement made something in my chest hurt.
I stared at the wall.
Why was my life so fucked?
I exhaled slowly and dropped my face back against Liam’s chest. Apparently my coping strategy this morning was going to involve pretending I was still asleep on top of a man who made my brain stop screaming for five consecutive minutes.
Which, frankly, was ridiculous enough on its own.
But I stayed there, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart and breathing in his scent. If I stayed here, I could pretend this was a completely normal way to start the day.
“BREAKFAST.”
Markie’s timing was impressive.
I stared at the wall for another moment.
Right, gotta feed the parrot.
I slid carefully off Liam, inch by inch, moving with the slow precision of someone attempting to exit a high stakes crime scene without leaving evidence.
He didn’t stir. The man had the sleep instincts of a tranquilized bear.
He was sprawled across my mattress with the relaxed confidence of a man who had clearly decided my bed was structurally sound enough to support him, one arm still stretched across the space where I had been a moment ago. His hair was a disaster, but his face looked calm in a way that felt deeply unfair.
He had no right to look that peaceful after what we did last night.
“BREAKFAST!” Markie screeched.
“Yes,” I whispered sharply toward the doorway. “I heard you.”
I grabbed a pair of panties out of my dresser and pulled them on before I slipped out of my bedroom.
When Markie saw me, he slammed his beak against the bars, then leaned forward, his posture suggesting he had been conducting a detailed overnight surveillance operation.
He tilted his head and looked at me, then peered in the direction of the bedroom.
The bird had the expression of someone holding classified information.
“Do not,” I said immediately.
He leaned farther forward. “DOG!”
“Stop calling him that.”
“DOG!”
