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Before I fuck it up.

I shift, shoving that thought down…and snag her computer from her lap.

“Hey!” she snaps, making a grab for it.

But I’m on my feet, holding her laptop out of reach and looking at the screen.

She’s shopping.

For heels.

Fuck, that pair is hot.

I commit the name, brand, color, and size to memory then close the lid and set it on the floor next to my phone and watch and various other shit that I collected in my pockets throughout the day, all of which are now sitting in a haphazard pile amongst the charging cables.

“Ace!” she says sharply.

I glance over my shoulder, see she’s off-balance—kneeling on the edge of the bed as she leans against me, one hand on my back, the other trying to reach around me—and I take advantage, spinning and catching her as she falls forward with a surprised gasp.

Gathering her close with one arm, I use the other to flick the covers back then slide us both into bed under them.

Smooth as fuck, if I do say so myself.

“Ace,” she warns again, but I hear it, feel it.

The hitch of her breath, the softening of her body.

She likes being this close as much as I like having her this close.

But she’s got that fire, got that spirit, got that stubborn as fuck Conrad streak.

So, she gives herself—and me—a heartbeat of enjoying the closeness then starts pulling at my hold. “Let me go,” she snaps. “I have work to do.”

“I love your shoes, baby, but I don’t think you can reasonably call shopping for them work.”

“You don’t know how hard it is to find the right pair,” she grumbles.

I chuckle, draw her closer. “You’re right,” I say. “I don’t know that.”

She’s quiet for a moment then tries another tactic. “I should answer emails.”

“You’re not answering emails.”

Another blip of quiet then, “You shouldn’t be holding me like this.”

“I like when I hold you like this”—I squeeze her—“You like when I hold you like this.”

“No, I don’t,” she mutters.

Grinning, I rest my chin on her shoulder, pull her even closer. “You do.”

“No, I⁠—”

“Baby, you didn’t move out of my arms this morning.”

She twists her neck and glares up at me. “What are you talking about?”

“I was pretending to sleep when you woke up.”