There I mumbled, “Mornin’, baby.”
One of his arms glided around me, pulled me closer and he said into the top of my hair, “Mornin’, Sweet Pea. You sleep okay?”
I turned my head to press my cheek to his chest as I nodded.
“Good,” he murmured, giving me a squeeze.
I squeezed him back.
“Coffee?” he asked and I nodded against his chest again. “How do you take it?”
I slid my cheek against his warm skin as I tilted my head back to look at him, my brows going up when my eyes hit his black ones. “You don’t know?”
His mouth twitched. “No.”
“Cream, half a sugar.”
His brows went up this time. “Half a sugar?”
“I save my sugar for when I eat it in cookie dough.”
He chuckled, his arm tightening for a second as he did then he kept looking down at me and I watched his eyes get lazy. I’d never seen that, his eyes getting lazy. It was sensational.
Then he bent his head, touched his lips to mine and let me go.
He moved to the coffeepot at the counter by the wall and I moved to the horseshoe bar and leaned against it.
“I used a toothbrush,” I informed him.
“Good,” he replied, grabbing a mug from some shelves that were fixed to the brick where there was a bunch of shiny, midnight blue stoneware, stainless steel utensils hanging from hooks off the bottom shelves, gleaming pots and pans on the top.
Guess he didn’t need me to buy him a new toothbrush and it also appeared from the near new look of his eating and cooking supplies, he didn’t cook or eat much at his lair.
“Do you move the furniture back and have football matches on Saturdays with your commandos?” I asked the brown skin over defined muscle of his back as he poured my coffee.
“No,” he answered but I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Rugby?” I went on.
He twisted to the fridge and opened it repeating, “No.”
“Paintball?”
He took out the milk, closed the fridge and looked over his shoulder at me, grinning. “No.”
“Hmm,” I mumbled.
He finished my coffee and brought it to me then rested a hip against the counter, his body facing mine, our bodies touching.
I took a sip from my coffee as he did the same with his.
He made good coffee.
“You make good coffee,” I shared.
He had no response.
I tilted my head back to look at him. “And you’re tidy.”