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She hums, dropping her head to my shoulder and brushing her nose up my throat. “But I’m not sleepy anymore.”
I swat at her ass, and she jolts, looking at me with wide eyes. Turning her down goes against every fibre of my being, but it’s for her own good.
“Sleep. You’re not getting fucked again until you can touch me without your hands starting to bleed and your head isn’t throbbing.”
“You suck.” She tosses herself down on my chest again but keeps close. If I were a cat, I’d purr at the feel of her against me.
“I’ll suck if it means you’re not hurting,” I say.
“Fine. I’ll sleep if you join me.”
“Deal.”
“We need to brush our teeth. I have gummy worm teeth.”
I chuckle. “Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?”
She taps her nails on my side, drawing shapes there that make me shiver. “Would you? My head hurts.”
“Oh, does it now? Huh. Funny how that works.” I grin and slip out from beneath her onto the floor before scooping her up and carrying her to the bathroom.
She gazes up at me with a loopy smile. “Swoon. My own personal knight in shining armour.”
“That’s right. Don’t you forget it.”
* * *
“How do you use this thing?”Braxton shouts from the kitchen the next morning, a clang following close behind. “And why is everything so dang high?”
I tug my sweatshirt over my head and shrug to get it fitted properly before leaving the bedroom. Following the sounds of her struggle, I find her tucked away in the walk-in pantry, leaning into one of the sets of shelves on her tiptoes, hands flailing above her head. The plastic container I keep my coffee pods in is on the shelf she’s reaching for, so I step up behind her, brushing my chest to her back as I grab it for her.
She spins to face me, gasping when she sees how close I am. I hold the container between us and grin.
“Should I keep a stool in here for you from now on?”
Her eyes roll, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “Maybe just move everything down a shelf. Who makes shelves that high, anyway? Seems a bit extreme.”
Snatching the container, she slips around me and pads back into the kitchen. It’s a different experience having a woman around, moving around my space with such ease. I love it. Truly.
I would love it more if it looked like her space too, but I don’t know if she’s ready to hear that yet.
Braxton pops a coffee pod into the machine and shouts her success when the black mug she chose starts to fill with a steady stream of brown liquid.
“Have I mentioned how good you look in my kitchen?” is what I choose to say instead.
She looks at me over her shoulder, eyes warm and so damn blue. “Once or twice. It’s a nice kitchen. A bit bland for my taste, though.”
I slip my eyes over the space and don’t bother denying it. It’s big, but with white cabinets and white marbled countertops, it looks too clean. Too sterile.
When I bought this place, I didn’t care what it looked like. I just knew I had more money than I was ever going to need, and the penthouse seemed like as good a place as any to spend some of it. But after four years, it’s more like a rental space than someone’s home. It’s a far cry from where I grew up.
I rest my back against the countertop and watch her. The strings on her VW hoodie try to dip into her mug when she raises it to her lips and takes a sip of the black coffee. A pair of grey sweatpants fall over her legs and are rolled up twice at her ankles. Messy curls are piled on her head, and her lips are still a bit swollen from the number of kisses I stole this morning, the feeling of waking up with her in my bed too fucking phenomenal not to.
“You’re right. This entire place needs some of the colour from your house,” I say.
“Is this your attempt at asking me to move in, Maddox? Because this penthouse is not my style.”
My eyes go wide for a second, surprise slipping over me before I steel my expression.
