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WYATT
The alarm goes off on my phone and Marlow moans next to me.
I fumble around trying to shut it off while still keeping her exactly where she is. Her hair fans over my chest, her thigh wrapped around mine, breast pressed against my side.
Best feeling ever.
I didn’t imagine anything could beat our first night together, but last night proved me wrong. There were no inhibitions between us. I’m exhausted because I couldn’t keep my hands…and other body parts…off of her all night long, but…fuck, I feel good this morning.
Euphoric.
Marlow’s alarm goes off a few minutes after mine and she stretches against me. Of course, my dick already thought it was time to play, just being near her, but her soft skin arching into mine amps up the situation.
In the next breath, she’s jumping up, not just out of my arms, but out of bed, her hair going every which way, as she power walks to the bathroom. I try to get a view of her ass, but she’s moving too fast.
I lean up on my elbows, turning off the alarm for good. “What is happening right now?”
“What do you mean?” she calls from the bathroom, electric toothbrush buzzing.
“You shot out of this bed faster than…I’m too tired to think of a comparison.”
The buzzing continues and when it finally shuts off, she comes back and stands in the doorway, smiling at me.
Naked.
My brain short-circuits as I take her in.
“Like a rocket,” she says.
“What?”
“It’s a thing Dakota and I do. I guess I’m fully in the habit now. Wow, good to know. I’ll have to see if she did the same this morning…although she probably didn’t set her alarm…” Her voice trails off.
“What?” I repeat.
She giggles, her cheeks pink, and her tits jiggle as she leans against the doorjamb.
God, she’s gorgeous.
“We were having such a hard time getting up in the mornings, and I saw this lady named Mel Robbins on Instagram—have you heard of her?” I stare at her and she keeps going. “She was talking about her concept 5-4-3-2-1, and you jump out of bed. Don’t even give your body a chance to argue with your mind, just get up.”
I stopped hearing her around the wordshard time getting up, my eyes tracking the movement when she puts her hand on her hip. Her skin is so soft it feels like smooth fucking satin.
“You’re not hearing a word I’m saying, are you?” Both hands on each hip now.
“Get over here.”
She smirks. “I can’t. I’m already up. That’s the whole point of 5-4-3-2-1. And we have to be at breakfast in half an hour.”
“5-4-3-2-1 your way right on over here. Plenty of time for me to ravage your body.”
She turns and walks back into the bathroom. “Been there, done that,” she calls.
That gets me up. I move in behind her, tickling her lightly but enough to make her squirm and laugh as my arms wrap around her. She looks so unbelievably happy when I look at her in the mirror.
“Been there, doing that over and over again, I hope,” I murmur against her skin.
She swats me away. “Okay, Mr. One-Track Mind, hands to yourself. We have to get ready.”
