Page 100 of Under Her

“Yeah.” I know exactly what she means.

“Back to work tomorrow,” she says. The way she says it doesn’t sound entirely happy, and I take that as a positive sign.

I know she loves her job, so I’m hoping it’s because she doesn’t want this right here between us to end.

She starts to massage my scalp with her fingers, and it feels frigging amazing. My eyes close at the sensation.

“Wilder…”

“Morgan.”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

I pop one eye open. Then, the other joins it.

“Sure.” My heart starts to beat a little faster in my chest.

“Well…” She pauses and chews on the corner of her lip. “I was just wondering…”

“What?” Say it, for Christ’s sake, because I’m fucking dying here.

“What is…this?” She points her finger to my chest and then hers.

I hold back the smile I feel. Because she’s just shown me her hand. She’s so on the fucking same page as me that we could write a book together.

But, now that I know she wants an us, I decide to play with her a little.

I might be crazy about her, but this is me we’re talking about here.

“What is what?” I glance down at my chest, then to hers, and then back to her face.

Her brows are furrowed. “This…us…what we’re doing here.”

“Well, babe, it’s called fucking. But I thought you knew that already.”

“Funny. Asshole.” She shoves away from me, rolling onto her back.

I follow her, chuckling. I roll on top of her, taking her in my arms. I stare down at her. “I’m messing with you, babe.”

I brush my lips over hers and meet resistance at first, but she caves quickly.

“What do you want this to be?”

“I asked first.”

“Well”—I kiss her again—“I was kinda hoping that we’d keep doing what we’re doing.”

She lets out a breath, her eyes going to the ceiling.

Okay, so that’s not the response I was hoping for.

Shit. Maybe I read this wrong, and she doesn’t want a relationship.

“Look, Wilder…”

Her eyes come back to mine, but I can’t read them.

Jesus…is she about to give me the it-was-fun-an’-all-but-I’m-done line?