“I need you to be straight with me—is it that you’re homesick, or just that you’re not comfortable at my house?”
I bit my lip, not at all eager to be honest.
“Babe?” he prompted.
“Your house is just so… echoey.”
He grinned. “Echoey?”
“Well, yeah.” I shrugged.
“Okay then, another question. Is it the house itself or the way it’s decorated?”
Did he mean the way it wasn’t decorated at all?
“I never thought about that,” I admitted. “Maybe the way it’s decorated,” I replied after a moment of thought. “It just feels sort of bare—everywhere.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. Tell you what. I’d prefer to be at my place—it’s more secure. But I like the feel of your place a lot. Maybe you could help me make my place more comfortable?”
“I don’t want you doing that just for me,” I protested.
He pulled me close, his forehead pressed to mine as we shared the same breath. “What you said earlier? Same for me, baby. I’d do anything for you,” he returned without delay, repeating my earlier words. He pulled back, his eyes lighting with humor. “And plus, my sister has been on my ass for years, and the guys never say anything, but I know they feel the same way. This will get them off my ass.” He leaned in closer once again, his nose touching mine. “Plus, it’s selfish really—if you put your mark on it, maybe you’ll never want to leave.”
His boyish grin and the hope in his eyes had me grinning at him. “All right.”
“All right? Hell, yes.” He grinned, pulling me up and out of bed, obviously eager to get back to his place.
“At some point tonight, maybe I’ll actually get to bed.” I sighed dramatically, trying to hide my smile.
He stepped close, his nose skimming my neck. “Baby, once I get you home, I can tell you one thing, sleep will be the last thing on your mind.”
In the end, the exhaustion that tugged at me the next day had nothing on the memory of his body over mine, of my lips swollen from more kisses than I could ever count, and more than anything, on knowing my man loved me.
Not one darn thing.
