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He’d been chill about it, though, not asking too many questions and trying to keep a straight face when I told him what I’d done. Unsuccessfully, I add with a smirk in the darkness. He was shocked down to his core, and I get a little thrill out of that the same way I always do.
I might be little and female, but I’m fierce as fuck behind the wheel of a tricked-out car. Still, I’m mad at myself for the rookie move of getting caught tonight. I know better, am better, and I’m definitely smarter than that.
Eventually, the sound of Brody’s breathing and his warm presence lull me closer to sleep. I relax into him, my head on his chest and my legs wrapped around his. Unconsciously, he pulls me closer. I’m glad he’s here tonight, not just because of the bail but because he feels right in my bed, beneath my cheek, under my palm.
I stir before the sun’s even up, a slow stroking of fingers along my arm bringing me from the call of sleep.
“Mmm, that feels good, but stop it so I can sleep for five more minutes.” In my head, that’s what I say. What actually comes out of my mouth is a growled, mumbled version of that, which makes Brody chuckle.
The vibration and rise and fall of his chest wake me up even more. Damn it.
“Want me to make you breakfast while you sleep in, lazy girl?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Not lazy. Be nice to me. I went to jail last night.” I’m kidding . . . mostly. And also, maybe a bit bitchy from lack of sleep.
But I did manage to process through a few things, the most important being that when the chips were down, I turned to Brody and he came through for me. I didn’t mean to test him, was just desperate, but even so, he passed with flying colors. Good to know, but not something I want to ever repeat again.
I want to be the badass in his eyes again, wash away the weak girl from last night who needed a rescue from a dark knight in a shining truck.
“No more pancakes. Let me cook this time.”
Brody’s hand popping me on the ass surprises the fuck out of me. “What the—”
“Hell yeah, Lil Bit. Show me what you got, though we both know whatever you whip up ain’t gonna top my mom’s pancakes.” Challenge extended.
“I’ll admit those are some damn good pancakes, but wait till you see what I can do.” Challenge accepted.
He wiggles us around, shoving me to my feet even though my eyes are still closed. I stretch, arching my back, trying to work out the kinks from sleeping curled up against Brody’s hard body instead of stretched out across my cushy mattress.
“Son of a bitch, Lil Bit.”
I peek open one eye to find him propped up on one elbow and watching me hungrily, his gaze tracing along my body appreciatively. I pose a bit as I contemplate skipping breakfast entirely in favor of sucking him, because behind the black cotton of his briefs, he’s sporting some serious morning wood I could put to good use. But it’s going to be a long day, so I really should start right. With bacon and eggs, not dick. And no, there’s not time for both. I already considered that too.
“Nuh-uh, no time for that.” I move out of his way, feeling his eyes follow me across the room to the bathroom.
He groans and falls flat on the bed. “You’re killing me, woman!”
I laugh and continue on my merry way. When I come out of the bathroom, I’ve yanked my hair into a bun, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. Brody’s managed to pull on his jeans and start the coffee pot, which he’s now watching as hungrily as he was me just a few minutes ago. Somehow, I don’t feel any less special because while he is a vision of raw masculinity filling my tiny kitchen space, I want that coffee too.
But since it’s not ready yet, I let my eyes trace over him. There’s something about a big, barrel-chested man with no shirt on, a messy bedhead, and a bit too much scruff that does it for me. The barely-on jeans and bare feet help too.
“You changing your mind on priorities? Because I can grab breakfast later. You? Now’s my chance.” His eyes stay on the coffee pot, though I know I could have them with a single agreeable sound.
“Eggs.” I swear I mean the chicken kind that I’m going to scramble for breakfast and not my ovaries bursting at his offer.
He shrugs, but I catch the smirk tilting his lips. I hurry to the refrigerator and the stove before I second—no, fifth—guess my choice of how to spend the few precious minutes I have this morning. Brody pours two cups of coffee, setting one next to the stove for me to sip as I cook before sitting down at the table with his own.
