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“Do you want this?” He holds up one of the takeaway coffee cups in his hand and takes a sip from the other.
Do I want this? Do. I. Want. This?
Yes. No. I don’t know. Coffee—yes. Warm and fuzzies—no. Sex—yes. Anything more—no.
“Please.” I nod and push myself carefully up the bed tugging down the hem of the T-shirt he lent me as I go.
The bed dips when he sits on the side of it. The side I’m already taking up. I wrap my fingers around the warm cardboard and smile my thanks.
“How’s the ink?” He juts his chin in the direction of my crotch.
“It’s perfect. Exactly what I wanted. Thank you,” I say truthfully then sip my heavenly coffee and close my eyes as it warms my throat. “I’ll pay you.”
“No worries.” He drains the rest of his coffee, watching me sip mine.
Just the sight of his tattooed fingers is enough to wake hoo-ha brain from her lusty little slumber. I take another sip from my cup for drool prevention purposes. The second it leaves my lips, and way before I’m ready, it’s slipped from my hands and placed on the bedside table.
My lips part to complain, but he sits back and pins me with a look so filled with heat, and want, and so much mischief that all I can do is sit there and forget to breathe.
Images of our crazy, hot, sweaty, rough, intense, mind-blowing, life-affirming sex tease me.
Rarely do I stick around for morning sex, but with this guy...
I blow out through O-shaped lips and attempt to stop the memories from crowding my, now wide-awake brain—both wide-awake brains.
God, he was good.
Too good.
Before I get out the first of many practiced reasons to get out of there, he leans across me and gently lifts the hem of his T-shirt—that would be his T-shirt I’m currently wearing.
With careful fingers he peels off the tape, and I just lie there and let him, because... you know... Hoo-ha brain.
And it was pretty through the cellophane. I push myself up onto my elbows and stare at the stunning tattoo. “Seriously, let me pay you for this.”
“I don’t normally work on the women I sleep with.” His eyes narrow, first on my new tattoo and then on my face. “Taking money feels weird. But doing it for free sends mixed signals.”
I press my lips together to stop myself from all out grinning. He’s me. In male form. I know exactly what he’s doing. I’m a goddamn expert at the morning after brush-off.
“You’ve seriously got zero to worry about from me. I rarely go back for seconds.” I pick up my unfinished coffee not even attempting to hide my smug satisfaction over his bemused eyebrow raise. “Unless it was too good not to.”
He’s quiet for a second, his hand still resting high on my thigh. “Heartbreak or born this way?” His head cocks as if he’s contemplating something completely foreign to him.
“I was brought up by five hard-core rockers and no mom. What do you think?” I deflect smoothly. He doesn’t need to know my story. It doesn’t change anything.
“In that case, I think...”
That smirk. Oh, that smirk. “You think?” I arch my eyebrow, acutely aware of my half-nakedness and the lazy circles his thumb is now drawing on the inside of my thigh.
“That you’ll be back for seconds...” He leans forward and presses a hot, coffee-flavored kiss to my mouth. “...and thirds. And maybe even fourths.”
“We’ll see,” I whisper against his lips.
“Indeed, we will.”
He grins wide and gets up off the bed. “Either way you should come by the shop to get that finished.” He places the tattoo gun from last night into its case carefully. “Gonna have to get my ass in gear. I’m gonna be late.”
“I’ll do that.” I swing my legs off the side of the bed. “But only if you let me pay.”
