I carefully slid out from under his arm.Or at least, I tried to.His hand immediately flexed against my waist, stopping me.“Where you goin’?”he mumbled, eyes still closed.
I froze.His voice was rough from sleep, low and scratchy in a way that made my toes curl beneath the sheet.“Coffee,” I whispered.
One eye opened.
“Already?”
“It’s morning.”
“Barely.”
I glanced toward the clock on the dresser.“It’s after seven.”
His eye closed again.“That’s barely.”
I laughed softly.“I thought bikers woke up early to polish motorcycles or threaten people before breakfast.”
His mouth twitched.“Only on Tuesdays.”
“It is Tuesday.”
Both eyes opened and he stared at me.
I grinned.
He grunted.“Smartass.”
“You like it.”
“Yeah.”His hand slid lightly over my waist before he let me go.“I do.”That simple admission landed harder than it should have.
I sat up and pulled the sheet to my chest, suddenly very aware of everything we had done the night before.Not in a regretful way.There wasn’t a single part of me that regretted Wheels.But daylight had a way of making things real.
And this?This felt very real.
Wheels must have seen something flicker across my face because he pushed himself up onto one elbow, the sheet falling low across his waist.
“You good?”
There it was.His constant check-in.
This time I smiled.“I’m good.”
His eyes searched mine for a second longer before he nodded.“Good.”
I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.It was supposed to be quick, anyway.
Wheels’ hand came up, fingers sliding into my hair, and he held me there long enough to turn quick into something slow and lazy.Something that made the room feel warmer.Something that made me briefly reconsider coffee.
When he finally let me go, I blinked at him.
He looked far too pleased with himself.
“Coffee,” I reminded both of us.
“Right.”
“And clothes.”
