She does not stir as I set her down on the side of the bed farthest from the door. My father once told me that a gentleman will always sleep closest to the door to protect his woman from any danger. He told me this dated back to when our ancestors were farmers in County Clare, Ireland centuries ago, and locks did not deter bandits. That story always stuck with me. Placing myself between Brynn and danger is always going to be a no brainer.
Before I get into bed with her, I grab our dirty clothes from the bathroom. I place my suit in the bag that the housekeeper will take to the dry cleaners on Tuesday and everything else in the machine, except for her white shirt. I have an all-in-one unit that takes care of washing and drying in under two hours. That cherry juice is never coming out, but I soak it in the sink with some Borax and a little bit of Tide. Once that is done, I get into bed with her. Trying to keep my hands to myself is going to prove to be the hardest thing that I have ever had to do.
Chapter 6
Brynn
Waking up, I am disoriented. The sun is low in the sky but still pretty blinding. I immediately realize that I am not alone, and last night comes rushing back to me. How is it possible to be hungover without drinking a drop? All around me is his scent. It is in his sheets, his pillow, him. Somehow, I have managed to flop my body halfway on top of him. His deep, even breathing is soothing me, even now. My bare, wet pussy is practically suction cupped to his thigh. He took his pants off sometime in the night, leaving him in just his boxers. As they have ridden up in his sleep, there is nothing between me and his muscular thigh. His nerdy image is shedding away with every new thing I learn and feel.
Shifting slightly, I feel his massive, hard cock digging into my side. I moan at the same time he groans in his sleep. If nature wasn’t urging me to get up and relieve myself, I’d definitely see where this could go. I move away from him and tiptoe across the room to the bathroom. I am not sure why I am tiptoeing, but I am. In the bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror when I am done doing what I came in here for. My hair is wild and unruly—nothing new there, but I went to bed with it wet, and it will never get tamed now. I will have to rewash it.
Shrugging, I forget about my hair, and even though it is four-thirty in the afternoon, I get back into bed. With him. Why won’t my heart stop racing when I think about him? Brendan is something else entirely. Different than any other man I have ever known. The men I have been around my whole life are killers.
They put their women on pedestals and take care of the family like nobody’s business. To be honest, it is not anyone’s business. That’s how we’ve survived the four generations the Vitalis have been in America. Keeping secrets from others is not new, but for the first time, I don’t want to do that. I want to be completely truthful with him. However, the thought of losing him before we’ve even begun does not sit well with me, so I push it away.
“You hungry?” he asks sleepily, startling me.
“I could eat,” I reply as he rolls over and buries his face in my neck. His warm breath on my skin gives me goosebumps. I move to get out of bed, but he holds me in place.
“Can you believe that I have not kissed you yet?” he asks, his voice serious.
“No, I cannot believe it at all,” I tell him, grinning.
“How about we rectify that situation?” All I can do is nod before his lips are on mine. He controls the kiss from the get-go, and that turns me on. Things just start getting good when my stomach rumbles loudly, effectively ruining the moment.
“Shit,” I whisper, his face still inches from mine.
“Let’s get you fed, Cherry. Can’t have my girl starving.”
I should be freaked out that he is already calling me his girl, but I’m not. I want to be his girl. Irrational as it may be, I want everything with this kind, caring, and handsome man. Sue me.
“I don’t think you would ever let me starve,” I say, gently pushing him away from me so that I can stand up.
“I would not. Let me take you out for a proper dinner,” he says, standing as well. His cock is straining against the fabric of his boxers, and I want so badly to help him relieve that ache, but I refrain. I do not want him to think that I would just do that for anyone, because I would not.