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“All right, you do that.” He chugged down more coffee. “I’m going to take a shower. I ordered breakfast. It’ll be here soon. Try not to fall back asleep while I’m gone.”
I could give him no guarantees.
As usual, he showered and dressed in record time. Our food arrived shortly after he returned downstairs. Once we’d wheeled the trolley onto the patio, I slumped in my chair, my shoulders hunched. I learned he’d ordered me a full greasy breakfast, knowing it might help with the hangover.
I sniffed. “I’d thank you if you weren’t finding so much humor in my disposition.”
He shrugged, unbothered, the high and mighty bastard.
I managed to eat more than I’d thought I would. By that point, my stomach was beginning to settle and my headache wasn’t quite as aggressive. But I still felt like shit warmed up.
I rested my head on the cool table with a low, pitiful moan. A particular rumbly sound made my shoulders tense. “That better not be laughter I hear. Have a little compassion. It’s your job as my husband to feel sorry for me.”
“My job?” he echoed,stillamused.
I straightened in my seat, narrowing my eyes. “You weren’t being judgy last night, no, you were all too happy to engage in drunk sex.”
“Hmm, I’ll bet you’ll never look at your hairbrush in quite the same way now that it’s been used to paddle your ass.”
I felt my cheeks flush. He was right on that. I’d tackled my hair with one of my other brushes this morning. “I’m not sure what bugs me more. That I let you paddle my ass, or that I didn’t realize you were actually using my hairbrush until after it was over.”
He chuckled low and deep. “Just be glad I didn’t use the side with the bristles. I thought about it.”
I felt my lips part. “You wouldn’t honestly do that.”
His brow slowly inched up. “Are you sure about that?”
No. No, I wasn’t. Because he was not the most predictable of lovers, and he had no issue doing things in bed that drove me nuts. “You’d really scratch my skin to shit like that?”
“Not so bad it caused you more pain than you like, but enough that it would mark you.” His eyes went hooded. “I like to see you marked.”
I knew that. Rough as he was, he bit me often and left fingerprint bruises. Truth be told, I liked looking at those marks. I just never told him. “Well, bristles are a no-no for me—let’s be clear on that.”
He only smiled, probably feeling confident that he could get me to agree to it when I was all fired up and desperate to come.
After he’d loaded the tray and wheeled it outside to be collected by a member of staff, he returned to me. “I have to leave for a few hours. I need to meet with Rafael before you and I head to my parents’ house for dinner.” He paused, studying my face, and then arched a brow. “You didn’t forget about it, did you?”
Yup. Totally. “Of course not.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Hmm,” he said, all skepticism. “Before I leave, I want to show you something. Come with me.”
I followed him into the living room, where he snatched a bag from the floor near the sofa. I felt my brow crease. “What you got there?”
He held it out. “Something to keep you occupied while I’m gone.”
Sparing him a curious glance, I took the bag and peeked inside. My mouth parted in surprise when I examined the contents.
“I noticed you have plenty of other books by those authors.”
I met his gaze. “These novels haven’t been released yet.” I knew it, because I’d spent months impatiently waiting for them to be made available to purchase.
He shrugged. “As the owner of the publishing company, I can obtain early copies.”
Excitement fluttered in my stomach at the same time as tenderness bloomed in my chest. “You can’t know how psyched I am right now. The book bug in me is mentally jumping for joy.” I flashed him a bright smile. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“Tough. Just did.” I set down the bag and locked my arms around him, pinning his own arms to his sides.
