Page 93 of Sweet Distraction

“Did you rehearse this in your head while you were making coffee?”

“Maybe.” She sighs. “Maybe even before I got up.”

I chuckle. “Then clearly I didn’t fuck you properly if you were up that early and not exhausted.”

She nearly chokes on her coffee, coughing into the rim of the mug.

I grin like an idiot. That comment definitely got under her skin—and not in the way I did last night. But still . . .

What the fuck am I even doing, saying this shit?

I’ve never lived with a woman I’ve slept with. Never had coffee or had the morning-after banter with someone walking around my house in my shirt.

This is a whole new level of domestic chaos I wasn’t prepared for.

“Hey.” I reach out and rub a hand over her knee and squeeze. “How about we just go along with whatever happens, huh?”

She studies me over the top of her mug. Her expression is quiet, unreadable, and for a second, I think she’s going to backpedal—gladly take the walk of shame and not look back. To her room.

“You paid for my drinks last night.”

Interesting. Where is she going with this? I nod. “I did.”

“Were you trying to get me drunk?”

I chuckle and lean toward her, brushing my fingers across the hem of her shirt—er, my shirt—grazing her thigh. Goosebumps chase over her skin.

“The thought of any man touching you was enough to drive me crazy. But your theory works too.”

She laughs, and damn, that sound and the way her tits jiggle against the fabric could wreck me if I let it.

She sets her mug down on the nightstand and then takes mine and does the same before I even get to enjoy it.

She’s freeing our hands.

Does that mean morning sex? Fuck. I’m here for it. I’m already ready for it. I’m—

“So, fine. Yes, to let’s just see how it goes, but we need to lay some ground rules—”

I groan and flop back on the bed, dragging the sheets over my face. Not exactly what I had in mind. “Strait-laced, rule-loving Willow is back. I knew it. Just when I was starting to like you.”

She grins and runs a fingertip up the sheet that’s covering my thigh. My cock bobs beneath the thin fabric. She lifts her eyebrows and meets my eyes. “You do like me.”

“Don’t push it.”

“But I can fuck it?” She crawls up to straddle my hips with zero hesitation and a wicked look in her eyes. Her bare thighs pin me down.

“Willow,” I groan as she grinds over me and the sheet. I can feel the heat of her pussy. The wetness soaking through.

“You want to throw the rules out the window, Rock?”

“I do.” She grinds. “Right now, I definitely do.”

Her hands slide down my chest, fingers tickling the skin as her mouth stops just short of touching mine. “Guess you’ll just have to convince me.”

She presses her lips to mine as she grinds her hips again. We sink into the kiss. It’s slow, deep—hot—scrambling all thoughts other than her. Now.

And just as I’m about to flip her over and do just that, Poppy’s voice yells down the hall. It’s a panicked sound—probably because she can’t find one of us.