And I wanted it every morning for forever.
“Mitch,” I whispered back, unable to say anything else.
His arms gave me a squeeze and his lips didn’t move from the skin at my neck when he asked, “You sleep okay?”
“Uh…” I answered, my vision blurry, my body still solid, my mind awhirl.
Apparently that was answer enough for Mitch because his lips moved from my neck to my ear where he murmured, “I slept f**kin’ great.”
“Um…” I muttered.
“You feel good, curled into me, warm and soft.”
Oh God.
“Uh…”
His arms squeezed. “Though, you’d probably feel better, there wasn’t a six year old between us.”
Oh God!
“Um…”
“Billie’s fever broke,” he informed me.
“Um…yeah,” I mumbled. “I checked before I got up.”
“Mm,” he murmured in my ear causing another, stronger trill to go up my spine. So strong, my body trembled with it. I got another arm squeeze then Mitch’s arms went away but not a second later his hands were at my hips. I felt his heat leave my back but only so he could turn me then his heat was at my front and his arms wrapped around me again, one low at my back, one high at my shoulder blades.
I looked into the depths of his soulful eyes and instantly got lost.
“You should have woke me,” he whispered, his face so close I felt his words on my lips.
“Why?” I whispered back, still lost in his eyes (and his heat and his strong arms wrapped around me).
“Because you left me in bed with a six year old,” he replied, this was said softly, gently and not with any accusation.
“So?”
“Baby, she isn’t my kid.”
“She likes you.”
“She still isn’t my kid. You there, it’s cool. Me alone in bed with Billie, not so much.”
Crap.
Okay, there it was. I was a dork thinking they looked like a poster. I’d screwed up, as usual, and made Mitch feel uncomfortable.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
His arms tightened, the one at my shoulder blades shifted up and his fingers sifted into my ponytail.
“It’s okay,” he whispered back and I was sliding back into getting lost in his eyes even though his lids were lowering at the same time his head was lowering and his lips were a breath away from mine.
“Mitch,” I called but my lips moved against his lips. Then my lips couldn’t move at all because his lips were on mine. His hand was cupping the back of my head to tilt it to one side, his slanted the other way and his tongue traced the crease of my lips until those lips opened and his tongue swept inside.
Oh God.