"Yes, you are pushing." He turns to me, his eyes dark. "You are most definitely pushing," he repeats, then sighs. "Christ, you always do this. It makes me crazy, like that time when you were in Girl Scouts and--"
I can't help but laugh.
He looks at me like I'm insane. "What?"
"I was just wondering how many couples break down into sibling arguments in the middle of a lovers' quarrel."
His mouth twitches. "You have a point." He narrows his eyes at me. "I still win the argument, but you have a point."
"You do not win," I say. "You can't win if you don't finish, and you are so totally avoiding the--"
"Jane?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
Since that's something we don't have to argue about, I do, and it's long and hot and tender and sweet all rolled up in the perfect rooftop kiss.
I sigh and curl against him as he slides his arm around my shoulders. "I don't want to have secrets," he says softly. "And I'm trying my damnedest not to. But some things I have to work through first. Does that make sense?"
I nod. "Yeah. It does."
"Good."
We sit like that for a while, just holding each other, wrapped in the dark of the night.
"We've got this right?" I finally ask, my voice a whisper, my eyes on the ocean that churns in front of us.
"Yeah," he says, pulling me closer. "We've totally got this."
What the Butler Saw
I wake up curled against Dallas and think that there's really no place I'd rather be and nothing else I will ever need. Except for coffee.
I definitely need coffee.
"Good morning." His hair is deliciously mussed, and there's a very obvious invitation in his eyes. An invitation that he backs up with the slow trailing of his fingers up and down my bare arm.
"Don't even think about it," I tease. "The only way you're getting any this morning is if I get some coffee."
"I can do that." He stretches, yawns, then sits up on the side of the bed, giving me a very nice view of his well-muscled back and broad, strong shoulders.
"Mmmm," I say, and he peers at me over his shoulder.
"Something on your mind?"
"Just enjoying the view."
His eyes graze over me, bare except for the spread of black satin draped over my calf. "I know exactly what you mean." He leans down and kisses me gently. "Give me a minute to go down to the kitchen," he says as he stands. He grabs a pair of sweatpants from where he'd left them over the arm of a chair a day or so ago, then tugs them on.
"And this is why I have a Keurig in my bedroom."
"I'm not the addict you are." He flashes a wolfish grin. "You're all the buzz I need."
I counter by thr
owing a pillow at him. "Go," I say, pulling the sheet up to my neck and then pointing toward the door. "No looking or touching until I'm properly caffeinated."