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“Hey, baby,” he whispered huskily as he lowered his body around me and I inhaled deeply, soaking up the scent of lust and home and unadulterated bliss. Two simple words wielded so confidently, and he had me swooning even in my unresponsive pool of vibrating euphoria.
“Mmmm,” I practically purred as his warmth enveloped me. It was as close as I was getting to a word. Seriously, who attached anvils to my eyelids? Because they couldn’t remember how to open. I knew I loved the man—knew every poor fucker that tried to date me had been unfairly held against his flame—but this was fucking ridiculous. Who knew concealed under the ties and tweed, the recited Proust and Kant, lay a delicious lover just waiting to devastate me? To ruin me for anyone else.
But as his warm arm wrapped around my waist, his face gently nuzzling into my neck, and my ass wriggling into his dick, I hummed contentedly. Because yeah, Broderick could fuck better than a porn star, but I’d never felt so… cherished. He’d gotten me off, then cleaned me up. I returned the favor, and we laid there, just reminiscing. Slowly, tenderly, he shifted his body over mine, cradling my face as he peppered it in kisses before we made love. The sweetest, most intimate kind of love. The deep-in-my-core, only-in-movies kind of sex I’d never known. We cuddled, ordered room service, ate, laughed, and talked about dreams… and then he came back for more, like he could never get enough.
Which was a relief because I knew I could never get enough. He was right. Whatever this was, it would not stay in Las Vegas. How could that thrill me just as much as it terrified me?
“You hungry?” he whispered groggily against my dewy skin.
“Mmmmm,” I hummed. Maybe? I couldn’t locate my stomach to check in. That quiet laugh raked over my overloaded senses.
“Is that a yes, Pix?”
“Mmmph.”
“I’ll just go with yes to be safe.” He kissed my cheek, my neck, my shoulder, then bit into the sensitive skin where the two met. Smart man. How was he still so damn coherent? He’d emptied me of lust and brain cells in one go. When he leaned away, some desperate part of me wanted to protest. But even as he shifted on mattress springs that squeaked subtly, my body melded further into the sheets, breath a little deeper as I settled into this contentment.
It seemed like no time had passed before he was nudging me out of my stupor. My nose was the first part of my body to come online.
“Is that…bacon and brie?” I questioned, perplexed, as I peeled back heavy eyelids.
“Fanciest grilled cheese of your life, with marmalade on sourdough. Complete with a tomato bisque that smells amazing, if I say so myself.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, blinking and rubbing at my sleepy eyes as he chuckled.
“I also grabbed a basket of hot wings and a steak fajita quesadilla just to be safe.”
“I ever tell you that you’re too good for me, Mr. Allen?”
His smirk infected every syllable as he said, “Just fighting to be good enough, Pix.” The smorgasbord spread over the mussed sheets was enough for at least four people, and I’d never felt so much love for one person.
“Food is my love language,” I admitted as I stretched out grabby hands for the fancy brie and bacon grilled cheese. Because why the fuck not?
Broderick chuckled a simple, “I know,” and handed me the plate. The first bite sent me moaning, head lolling back against the headboard, my reaction making him laugh harder. “And here I thought I was the only one who could elicit that sound from your mouth.”
“To be fair,” I said, covering said mouth as I reached for a water bottle. “You are still responsible. It’s just not your dick I’m swallowing this time.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, but I saw the smile as he dropped his face and palmed the back of his neck. “Your mouth, Pix.”
“Seemed like you were a pretty big fan of it about an hour ago.”
“Woman, you will be the death of me.” That sent me laughing, fighting not to choke on my mouthful of decadent sandwich, which only seemed to amuse him more. “Only Sin City delivers five-star room service in the middle of the night.”
It was as he popped the clear lid off the Styrofoam quart, the scent of tomato and cheese wafting my way as he held it out to me that I breathed, “Viva Las Vegas.”
Once we fully satisfied our appetites, Broderick cleared the leftovers into the fridge. "This will make for the weirdest breakfast spread on record.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “If you think this is the first time I’ll eat hot wings for breakfast, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“Medical marvel,” he grumbled, eyeing me up and down. It was the first time I saw his eyes on me without a trace of embarrassment…only…appreciation in his gaze. And damn, if that didn’t feel exquisite.
“They’re having me studied,” I teased as he sat back down beside me. “For science, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Metabolic wonder woman.”
“Sure it’s not a psych ward for illusions of grandeur?”
