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Leaning forward to brace his forearms on the counter, he asked, “Whatcha making there?”
“A caramel mocha latte. Well, my amateur version of one, anyway.” She removed the spoon and slid the drink toward him.
“For me?”
“Who else?”
He shifted his weight to the left so he could lift it for a sip. Caramel and chocolate swirled togethe
r to delight his taste buds. The fact she’d made it just for him made it that much sweeter.
As he lowered his hand, she said, “If it tastes like crap, you don’t have to drink it.”
“No, it’s good,” he assured her. “Really good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She reached for a mug off to the side with a tea bag tag hanging over the edge. Her blue gaze met his over the rim as she sipped. “Are you hungry?”
She probably meant for food. He chose to answer by setting his cup aside, taking hers to set it aside, and then reaching up to thread his fingers through her hair at the nape of her neck to draw her in for a proper good morning kiss.
She hmmed softly, and when he eased closer, her lips parted beneath his in open invitation. Merit angled his head to deepen the kiss, meeting her halfway, then delving deep with slow, sensual strokes. Mae melted against him, her hand pressed against his chest, right over his heart, which was quickly picking up pace again, sending a rush of blood straight below the waistband of his jeans.
He was about to hoist her up and carry her back to the bedroom when she broke the kiss by tipping up her chin as she turned her head aside. He buried his face against her neck, his lips moving against her soft skin as he inhaled her addicting scent.
Her breath came in soft pants as she said, “I was going to make pancakes for breakfast.”
“I would love pancakes for breakfast after I have you.”
Her fingers flexed against his chest, her short nails digging in the tiniest bit. “Unfortunately, the baby is hungry now, and this is one of the rare days I don’t feel like throwing up.”
He stilled and then chuckled. “You definitely don’t sugar coat things, do you?”
“Nope. My life doesn’t allow me the luxury of beating around the bush.”
Because as a single mother and CEO, she likely didn’t have much free time. He, on the other hand, had all the time in the world. He stepped back and reached for his homemade latte while she gathered dishes, utensils, and ingredients.
“Any chance I’m the reason for your lack of morning sickness?”
She laughed as she bent to reach into the fridge. “Nice try, but no.”
“Damn. I was hoping to make my case to do this again.”
He saw her fingers tighten on the edge of the door.
“Define this,” she said.
“Spend the night in your bed.”
Her head popped up over the door, panic flitting across her face before she straightened with two eggs in her hands. “Merit, you have to realize I have Ian to consider. I can’t just have men staying over—”
“Whoa, hold on.” He held up his hand to cut her off. “First of all, I am not men—at least according to you, I’m not.” He arched his eyebrows. “Am I?”
“No.” She closed the refrigerator door, ducked her head, and turned to start mixing her assembled ingredients. “I’ve never had anyone here like this before, but that doesn’t mean I plan to start now.”
“Last night—”
“Last night, I was only thinking of myself.” She sounded guilty, as if she were beating herself up over it.
“You are allowed to do that every once in a while.”
