I looked into his sleepy, beautiful eyes and whispered, “You’re handsome when you sleep.”
“Yeah?” he whispered back.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
He moved his hand through my hair, around to my face, where he stroked my jaw with the tips of his fingers.
He was like that, Mag was.
He touched.
Affectionate.
Loving.
Not just during sex. Not just when he was trying to butter me up.
He was a guy who held hands.
He was a guy who cuddled.
He was those two things.
Affectionate.
Loving.
“I need to go talk to my brother again,” I announced, and his brows shot together with annoyance.
“Evie.”
“I have to thank him.” I slid my hand up to his face and rubbed my thumb along the stubble at his cheek. “If he wasn’t a douche canoe, on our first date, you probably would have thought I was just some klutzy nerd that lectured you on environmental issues within minutes of meeting her and then counted down the minutes until you could be shot of her.”
His brows relaxed and his mouth softened.
“Babe, I was into you the second I laid eyes on you.”
He was?
Nice.
“Then I demonstrated I was a klutz, this I did spectacularly, after, of course, I lectured you on environmental issues,” I reminded him.
“A cute one.”
I grinned at him.
“Nothin’ wrong with havin’ fire and an opinion, Evie,” he said. “I know you got a bent to talk yourself down, think things about you aren’t as awesome as they are. But just so you know, I was into you the second I laid eyes on you, and I was only more interested in you when you started lecturing me and seriously into you when you smacked your head into the counter.”
My mind wanted to distort that.
Make it negative.
Find some reason not to believe.
But I couldn’t. There was no evidence to support it.
He was into me from the beginning and he didn’t hide it.
“I was into you the second I laid eyes on you too,” I shared.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Both his arms went around me, and in a great Mag Surge, he rolled me to my back, so he was on top.
After he got me in position, his hands went into my cami, sliding up my sides, skin on skin.
I shivered under him.
“Sunday,” I whispered.
“Sunday,” he whispered back, and the way he said that word made me know he felt the same way about lazy Sundays as me.
I loved that.
And then he kissed me.
It was soft and slow and sweet.
I loved that too.
After a long time of kissing, it wasn’t soft or slow or sweet and he wasn’t only kissing my mouth.
I wasn’t only kissing his either.
Then, after a long time of rediscovering one another (even if we hadn’t really lost touch, considering we’d had sex last night before going to sleep), Mag rolled on a condom, hooked my legs at the backs of the knees with his hands, lifted them and lowered his body down on mine.
I pressed my legs tight to his sides…
And then, slowly, his tongue tracing my lips, his eyes holding mine, he slid inside.
God.
Yeah.
Heck yeah.
Totally would beg for Mag to be on top.
We then made love and it was making love.
I’d never done it before, and I was an instant devotee.
Or maybe I was just a devotee of Mag.
It was steady and familiar and profound and beautiful.
And my orgasm wasn’t earth-shattering.
It was gentle and quiet and consuming.
And when Mag purred into my neck with his, I sensed his was the same.
He didn’t slide out until he had to, and he didn’t stop touching me, kissing me, until he felt the need to.
And I knew he felt the need, that need being driven by hunger, coupled with his drive to look after his woman, and move onto the next phase of our Sunday, when he looked into my eyes and asked quietly, “Breakfast?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
We kissed again.
And when we were done, together, we rolled out of bed.
I sat at a stool at Mag’s island, watching him make pancakes (bonus, we had fresh blueberries so they were blueberry pancakes, and side note: I was trying not to slide into a happiness coma that I could say “we had fresh blueberries” seeing as we went grocery shopping together the day before, again, and Mag made even shopping for groceries fun).
I was also thinking I kinda missed our breakfast game.
We’d settled into a routine.
Mag made breakfast.
I made dinner.
Even before I had to head out to Smithie’s, I made dinner. We just ate early, something we could do since Mag was still on