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“Oh,” I say, pressing back.
“Only if you want to,” he says, and I can hear the smile through his words, even though I can’t see his face.
“Oh, I want to,” I say, and then we’re kissing again.
36
Shane
“Morning, sunshine,” a voice says, and I smell coffee, and then I’m wide awake because the most beautiful woman in the world is standing next to my bed with two coffees and a bag of something that smells even better than coffee.
“What is that? It smells like heaven.”
“These are all for me,” Ivy says, smirking, “because I heard a rumor your personal trainer will have your head if you eat baked goods.”
“Give me that.”
She does, and I open it to find two chocolate croissants inside. I groan.
“Tim Ernst doesn’t care if you’re built like an action-movie hero,” she points out.
“Mmm,” I say. “I seem to remember that you care.”
Somewhere during time two last night, or maybe it was time two-point-five—it got a little blurry—when Ivy was slightly out of her head from having just come all over my tongue, she told me that I had the hottest body of any guy she’d ever been with, and would I mind if she licked me all over?
Best. Sex. I make a note: I owe Quinn a you were right, bro because if married life is about having sex like that every night of my life, you can sign me the fuck up right this second.
Oh, right! I’m already signed up.
For the first time ever, thinking about marriage sends a surge of elation rushing through my body.
Ivy gazes down at me. She seems to have gone out for coffee in my T-shirt and a short, soft skirt. Her makeup is smudged from falling asleep without cleaning her face and then waking up in the middle of the night to have sex for the third time (also wow). There are acres of bare thigh within arm’s reach. I am already speculating about whether she’s wearing underwear.
There is also a chocolate croissant in my hand.
I could totally get used to this.
She settles onto the bed next to me.
“Are you sure you want to eat croissants in bed?”
She shrugs. “We can wash the sheets. And if the alternative is getting out of bed, this is way better.”
“Amen,” I say. “Pass the coffee.”
The croissants are warm, the coffee scalding, and I’m just about ready to spend the whole day in bed when Ivy gets up and goes into the bathroom.
A moment later, I hear the shower start.
She calls out, “There’s plenty of room in here.”
I catapult myself into the bathroom.
“That was fast,” she says, giggling.
“I wasn’t going to wait for you to change your mind!”
“No chance of that,” she says.
