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A big hand cupped her head, fingers slowly massaging her scalp, and yes, that was part of the fantasy. Because if she was in Bali, of course there had to be a giant hand giving her a head massage. That’s how fantasies worked.
Then his stomach rumbled. And then hers.
And she snapped completely awake, oriented in time and space. She knew exactly where she was and with whom. She was in Harrison Whosis’ apartment and with Pierce Jordan, the man who’d loved her into a stupor last night.
And just like that, for the very first time in her life, reality was better than fantasy.
His stomach growled again. He laughed. “Good morning.” His voice was a rough rumble, like the giant’s voice in a fairy tale.
“Morning,” she sighed, eyes closed. Morning was not good. Morning meant the day starting, meant reality rushing in. During the nighttime, in the darkness, they could pretend they were two lovers on some desert island, cut off from the rest of the world. But the rest of the world came rushing back in crushing waves, heavy and dark and dangerous.
She opened her eyes to find Pierce’s deep blue eyes staring into her own.
The few times she had slept over with a lover, the next morning was inevitably awkward. Up until now, Riley had specialized in semi-autistic, socially inept men, and the morning after the night before was always painful. The whole morning routine—showering, getting dressed while trying to preserve some modesty though they’d both been naked all night, grabbing some breakfast—was always awkward.
Riley didn’t feel awkward now. She feltgreat.
Pierce smiled at her and she smiled right back. He ran a hand up her arm, cupped her shoulder, kissed her. Then he threw back the covers and stood up and oh my God. His muscles had muscles. He looked like the David by Michelangelo, only better endowed.
“You should never get dressed,” she said seriously.
Pierce laughed.
“I mean it. You should just go around naked, make everyone’s day.”
She was lying on her side, the covers pooled around her feet.
He gave her a slow appreciative glance, head to feet and back again. “I’d say the same thing, but trust me when I say I don’t want anyone but me seeing you like this. My very own work of art, which only I get to see.”
“Only you,” Riley agreed, smiling. Right now she couldn’t remember a thing about any of the few men she’d gone to bed with, except that they all paled in comparison with Pierce.
“No.” Pierce had lost his smile. “I really mean it.” He waved a long finger between them. “Whatever this is, what we have between us, I want it to be exclusive.”
He said it almost belligerently, feet widened in a boxer’s stance, as if she were going to beat him up for saying it.
She wasn’t going to beat him up. He didn’t have to convince her. She couldn’t even imagine being with anyone else.
“Oh yeah,” she breathed.
He perked up. “Yeah?”
“Well, if you can put up with me.”
“Put up with you?” He sounded puzzled. “You’re perfect.”
Riley gave a very unladylike snort of laughter. The men she’d dated would have begged to differ. “Not quite. I get lost in my work. I can’t cook. I—”
“Stop it.” Pierce was shaking his head. “Speaking of cooking, I’m going to go deal with breakfast. I told you Harrison has a whole section labelled ‘Breakfast’. I think there might be croissants. And muffins.” He bent and kissed her neck, smiling as he rose because she shivered. “That neck is definitely an erogenous zone.”
It had felt like an electric shock. “Mmm.”
“Hold that thought.” He dressed in jeans and a tee, and all Riley could think about was how sad it was that he covered that body up. But at some point, they were going to have to go out, she supposed, and he’d stop traffic—at least vehicles driven by women—if he went around naked.
She took a shower, marveling at herself. Showers were quick and efficient ways to get clean. Unless she was washing her hair, her morning shower took between five and eight minutes. She’d timed it when she started taking the bus to work. But now? She stood dreamily under the cascade of hot water, remembering last night and she could have stayed forever. Soaping up, she remembered Pierce touching her, all over. How his rough hands had been so gentle, how she’d shivered yet had been so hot.
If they lived together, she’d never get out of bed.
Riley froze, sponge in hand.If they lived together. Man, was she getting ahead of herself. So far, they were having an affair. A hot affair, true, but an affair. Earlier, he had said he wanted it to be an exclusive relationship which was fine because she couldn’t imagine being with another man. But there was a lot of road to travel between a hot affair with a man she’d just met and living together. She couldn’t be all starry-eyed. It wasn’t fair to him and wasn’t fair to her.
