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“You slept next to me all night—nude, and I didn’t wake up?”
“Snored your way through it.”
Her eyes fly back to mine. “I don’t snore.”
“Hate to break it to you, but you drool, too.”
“I do not!”
I try to remain straight-faced, but it’s impossible when she swipes at her mouth.
“Are you trying to pick a fight?”
My cock pulses at the fiery spirit building. “Bring it.”
“Why? You refuse to have sex with me.” There’s a bite to her words.
“Princess, if I thought fucking you would get me what I wanted faster, I’d be balls deep right now. But you’re missing the point. Last time I had you, I was so fucking blinded by your hold on me you slipped away. This time, we’re doing things my way. Getting to know each other, sharing things, having dates and sleepovers, all the stuff that builds a healthy relationship. When I get you back, I want it all.”
The flame in her eyes vanishes and is replaced with a bright green glow.
“You’re punishing both of us.”
“Tonight, when you’re begging me to stop, tell me how brutal the punishment is.”
A blush creeps up her cheeks, and she chews on her lip before dropping her eyes again. “What about now? What are you doing about this?” Her hand grazes over my dick.
“You’re going to get your gorgeous ass in the bathroom and brush your teeth while I make your coffee. While you’re out of sight, I’ll have a conversation with myself about stronger willpower, which is something my dick isn’t used to when you’re around. Since I didn’t plan for a sleepover, I’ll wear two-day-old jeans and get a clean shirt out of my truck.”
“I could help you out…” she scrapes her fingernails along my shaft, “if you want.”
“Baby, you want to play this game tomorrow morning at my house, I’m all for it. But I don’t take without giving. We have people arriving in less than thirty minutes, and I don’t think you want a bunch of men to walk in on me with my mouth between your legs. I’m already going to suffer from a case of blue balls today. Get your ass to the bathroom.”
She remains still, tracing her tongue along her bottom lip.
“Ashlyn—”
“Going, going… so bossy.” She backs out of reach, but not before giving my cock another glance.
“Fuck me, I am a glutton for punishment,” I say to myself when the bathroom door shuts.
I slide on my boxers and jeans, start her coffee, and go to my truck for a shirt. She’s sitting on her bed, checking her phone when I get back to her.
“My family will be here Thursday as early as possible. The guys will clear the front and back yard unless you think they should wait.”
“Do they know what they’re doing outside of pools?”
“Yes. Dad’s company is more of an elite outdoor landscaping company.”
“Then they can have at it. Tell him to get me a list of what he needs and I’ll have it ready.”
She nods, typing off a message. “Mom wants to shop.”
“Women usually do. Anything specific?”
“Furniture. More specifically, guest room furniture.”
“Not a bad idea. You have three bedrooms to fill up.”
“Actually, four. I sold my set before leaving Chicago. I sold most of my furnishings because they didn’t suit me anymore and it was time for a new beginning. The small storage unit I’m renting is mostly boxes.”
“How small is the unit?”
“Ten by ten.”
“You have a contract on it?”
“Month to month.”
“This weekend, we can move your stuff to my garage.”
“You have a garage?”
“Somewhat. The freestanding building out back is equivalent to a three-car garage. It’s got plenty of space for your things. We organize it right, your Lexus will fit, too. I can install a garage door for one side.”
“That’s sweet but unnecessary. It’s silly to move it twice, and the cost isn’t expensive.”
“Baby, I saw the invoice yesterday, and it’s the principal. Why pay anything when I have space and you can put that money toward buying things? Pierce and I can move your stuff in a load with both our trucks. And everything from here, except that bed, is going in my house.”
She opens her mouth, then rethinks it and rolls her eyes.
“And another thing, you and your mom go crazy, but when it comes to your furniture, I want my say.”
“You want a say in my furniture?”
“Specifically,” I point to her mattress, “the bed. That thing is shit.”
She looks to where I’m pointing and purses her lips before giggling. “You really hate it, huh?”
“The only quality it has is you laying in my arms.”
“I guess I’m used to it.”
“It’s going to charity.”
“Okay.”
“No argument?”
Her laughter slows and she shakes her head. “I bought it on a clearance sale off the internet. My realtor did me a favor and met the delivery guys here.”
“Glad there’s no attachment.”
“Miller.” Her voice goes serious and instincts kick in. “I thought we agreed that things would slow down today? Demanding to have a say in my bedroom furniture isn’t slow.”
