Page 147 of Pucking Daddy

Now I’m waking up in his bed, watching him sleep, trying to process that the man next to me is in love with me.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second.

It’s the best, most overwhelming thing that’s ever happened to me.

When I open my eyes again, he’s looking at me.

I freeze.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches me with that slow, knowing awareness that makes me feel like he’s already clocked every thought I just had.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

My stomach flips.

“Morning,” I whisper back, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that I am in his bed, in his shirt, with my hair probably doing something chaotic.

He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “You’ve been staring at me.”

I immediately sit up a little straighter. “I was not staring.”

“You were definitely staring.”

“I was observing,” I correct.

His mouth twitches. “That makes me feel like a scientific project.”

I tilt my head, letting my gaze drift over him in a way that is very much not subtle anymore. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

His brow lifts. “Depends on the experiment.”

“Oh, it’s a very thorough one,” I say lightly, shifting onto my side so I’m facing him more fully. “Extensive research. Long-term study. Possibly multiple… hands-on trials.”

There’s a beat.

Then his eyes darken just slightly.

“Hands-on trials,” he repeats slowly.

I shrug, trying for nonchalance and landing somewhere closer to blatant flirting. “You know. For accuracy.”

He lets out a low huff of amusement, but there’s something else underneath it now. Something warmer. He shifts closer, closing a little more of the space between us.

“And what exactly are you planning to research?” he asks.

My pulse picks up, but I don’t back down.

“Your… general composition,” I say, gesturing vaguely. “Structure. Reactions. Durability under pressure.”

His mouth curves. “Durability.”

I bite back a smile, suddenly very aware of how close he is now.

“And I assume this research is purely for academic purposes,” he adds.

“Obviously,” I say. “I’m a professional.”

“Right.”