Come What May - L.K. Farlow Page 0,56

lie here with her all day if I could. Lie here, love on her, make her come a few times, and then do it all over. Again, and again.

However, that’s not an option, so I’ll settle for the next best thing—waking her up with breakfast in bed.

It physically pains me to leave her—or maybe that’s my morning wood aching—but I disentangle myself from her and roll to the edge of the bed. I linger for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest and press a kiss to her temple before heading to the kitchen and getting to work on breakfast.

After starting a pot of coffee, I realize it’s our grocery day and the fridge is damn near empty—save for a takeout container of limoncello cheesecake.

Here’s to hoping she doesn’t mind sugar for breakfast.

I arrange a tray with two mugs of piping hot coffee, our sweet treat, and two spoons and head back to my room. She’s still sound asleep. I place the tray at the end of the bed and perch on the edge near her.

“Buenos días, mariposita—wake up.”

She hums softly and pulls the blanket over her head.

“I brought you breakfast.”

“Coffee?” she asks, still buried beneath my comforter.

“Of course.”

She sits up and pulls the blanket down. Her hair is a mess and I can’t help but grin as I pass her mug to her. She inhales deeply before taking a sip. “Ooh, so good.”

I join her fully on the bed, sitting with my back to the headboard and for a moment, we just exist together as we sip our coffees in the early quiet.

“How do you feel this morning?” I ask, hoping she gets my drift.

“Good; I feel really good.”

“You’re not sore?”

Her cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink. “I mean, not really.”

My dick twitches. “Good.”

Seraphine ducks her head and changes the subject. “You mentioned breakfast?”

Chuckling, I nod to the plate. “It’s more like a really late—or early—dessert.”

She passes me her mug and shucks the covers off. “Yum!”

Seraphine stretches forward, elongating her back and lifting her hips. The shirt I gave her to sleep in is bunched around her middle, giving me a jaw-dropping view of her delectable bare ass.

A low, sensual groan escapes me as my dick rises to the occasion. “Good enough to eat.”

She glances back at me over her shoulder and flashes me a coy smile. “Then come get a bite,” she whispers, bolder than I ever imagined her to be.

Coffee sloshes over the mug rims, but I couldn’t care less. Fuck. How can I be expected to even form coherent thoughts with her wriggling her hips in the air, showing off her pretty pink pussy?

I lunge for her. Her position leaves her open and exposed perfectly for me, and like a man possessed, I bury my face between her legs and feast like she’s my last meal.

After a handful of orgasms—for her, not me; I had some making up to do from last night—and a shower, Seraphine and I are curled up on the couch watching old episodes of Roadkill.

“The Draguar is the best,” I argue, referring to the 1974 Jag they beat to hell and back on the show. “It did the most epic burnout!”

Seraphine scoffs but stays wrapped in my arms. “Puh-lease, the Rotsun is where it’s at!”

“That clunker broke down constantly!”

“Well, duh.” She laughs and it warms me from the inside out. “All of their cars either break down, overheat, or plain break! That’s what makes it so good.”

I nuzzle my nose into the top her head, breathing in her scent. “True, true.”

The sound of the garage door opening has Seraphine tensing in my arms. “Shh, it’s just Desi.”

Seraphine cuts her eyes in the direction of the laundry room.

“She knows, and it—” is all I get out before my daughter bounds into the room.

“Ohhh, y’all look cozy,” Desi says, plopping down into my chair.

I refuse to take her bait. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes! Renee’s mom made homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast; they were the s-h-i-t.”

“Don’t cuss,” I reprimand her as Seraphine covers her smile with her hand.

“I didn’t; I spelled it.” Desi smirks, looking proud of her loophole.

“Smartass.”

“Dad!” Desi feigns shock. “How could you use such language in the presence of ladies?”

Seraphine giggles, and I drop a kiss to the top of her head.

“What do you have going on today, pollito?”

Desi shrugs and trains her eyes on her lap.

“Talk to me,” I urge her.

“I…it’s just, um…”

The way she’s bumbling around has my hackles raised. Des is the kind of