Page 10 of Claiming What's His


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I do a shudder at the thought.

“Do you realize what time it is?” I ask. It must be early with the way my body is still screaming for me to go lay down.

“Yeah, babe. It’s almost noon.”

“It is?” I ask.Damn I slept longer than I thought.“Really?”

“Yeah.” he laughs.

“Shit,” I mutter.

We stand staring at one another for a second. I don’t know what else to say. All my usual fire has left me. His dark eyes are too captivating for me to think of a reply.

“Shelbers, let me in,” he coaxes.That smile. I want to shake myself awake so I don’t fall for it. Sleepy me wants to fall into this tall drink of water. While logic is waving orange flags and screaming danger.

“Oh no,” I tell him, waving my hand. “Stop that right now. You don’t call me that.”

“I like it and you’re being cute right now. So, it fits,” he says.

“You mean I’m being mad right now.”

“I know, and it’s damn cute.”

He did not just tell me being mad is cute. “You really are insane.” I move to close the door, but he interrupts me.

“Let me in. I have food,” King says, holding up the bags. I scowl at the offending peace offering just as my stomach growls.

“What kind of food?”

“Breakfast.”

“What kind of breakfast?” I hedge, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He laughs, and it rolls over me. The baritone is deep and rich. I want to hear it again. It’s a sound I could become addicted to all to easily.

“I have a little of everything because I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“What does everything entail?” I ask, curiously.

“Waffles, eggs, sausage, and bacon.”

I bite my lip wondering if letting him in would be worth the breakfast. My stomach growls again. This time a little louder. I love Belgian waffles. I still don’t think it would be worth allowing him in though. I need to focus on self-preservation where King is involved.

“Tempting offer, but I think you need to go home. You’ll have to talk to me some other day.”

“Beautiful, let me in. Your food is getting cold.”

“You have two bags. Surely it doesn’t take that much room for waffles,” I press.

“I was afraid you were a coffee and pastry kind of girl.” He chuckles. “So, I brought jelly doughnuts.”

I scrunch up my nose. “Um…no.

“And those chocolate covered long johns,” he adds with a hopeful tone.

“Eek!!!!,” I squeal as I slam the door.

“What the hell?” King mutters.

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