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Oh my God!
Is this Austin Whitlock’s bed!
There’s a Boston twang in there, the dropping of the ‘r’ a dead cert, but he doesn’t come across as Boston born and bred. I’m born and bred, but I’ve never been floored by the Boston twang, not until I’d heard his.
The four words wash over me in the most delectable way.
Oh God! Coming to my senses, my hands slap down on the covers. I’m not naked, am I? I push the covers up and check.
Avery giggles. "You're dressed."
Why is she laughing? This is not funny. And why does she looked so relaxed in someone else’s bed?
Ewww, how many women have been in this thing?
"It's a damn shame you're so intent on keeping your clothes on." Hazel eyes pop up from my side of the bed. The sexy quirk at the corner of his mouth leaves mine dry.
His hair has been swept up in a tornado during sleep, and why is it adorable? Heat rushes into my belly as my throat works hard to try and find words.Any words will do, Mia.How has he rendered me speechless already? "You’re so damn cocky." And quite charming, in an irritating way.
Light flickers through the hazel, humor making the hidden colors flash. "Always am, sweetheart."
Sweetheart?That shit isn’t going to work with me. I roll my eyes as Avery laughs. I push back down into the bed, trying to hide from his intense gaze. I sniff his covers on the sly. They smell warm, like the outside in the first throws of summer, and salty.
"Breakfast?" he asks as he makes a move to stand up.
Wait. He’s clothed, right? I’ve established that I am, and I assume Avery is.
“Breakfast?” Avery questions, and I hear the shock.
"Any time is chow time."
"I don't eat before a run." And that is the one way I can leave quickly.
"Coffee, then."
I'm about to object when Avery's foot kicks mine. Seriously, is she not understanding the scowl I'm sending her way? She's stronger than she looks and will fight me on this. I give in, because Avery can be a bitch without caffeine. Austin chooses this moment to stand and the words I had in my head literally tumble out, falling into a mess on the floor.
The sweats he wears hang low around his waist. I swallow as my eyes trace muscles that could have been chiseled by Michaelangelo himself. They flex as he throws the spare blanketat the end of the bed and at that point, my saliva completely abandons me.
Maybe I need the coffee after all.
"I'll take a latte," Avery instructs as she stretches next to me.
How the hell isn’t she seeing what I’m seeing?
His eyes drop to me. "Sweetheart?"
"I have a name."
He smirks. "I know."
I cluck my tongue. "Black, one sugar, and you can keep the ‘you’re sweet enough’ comment to yourself."
He nods and I watch him leave the room, shutting the door, and I finally release a groan. "How could you let this happen?" I hiss, wanting to slap her.
"Me?" Avery squeaks. "You practically fell into his arms!"
"Unconsciously fell!" I cry, quietly. We don't need him hearing this. His ego is big enough already, and so are his abs, but who cares?
