“It is.” His lips brush against the back of my neck as he talks. “And so is this.” He gives me a squeeze. “I want to wake up next to you tomorrow. And the morning after that…and every next morning in the foreseeable future.”
My eyes fly open and I spin in Dean’s arms. I put my leg over his and he plants his lips to my forehead. “Dean Dawson, are you implying what I think you’re implying?”
“That we should have sex every single night and wake up naked next to each other? Then yes, yes I am.”
I laugh. “I do like the sound of that. But waking up…with me…”
“Yes,” he says, answering the question that I haven’t yet asked. “I don’t want anyone else.” He puts his lips to mine, kissing me gently, and then lifts his head back enough to look in my eyes. “I think I’m falling for you, Rory. And it scares the shit out of me, but I want you and only you.”
My heart flutters in my chest and my lips part, but words fail me. I lift my head off the pillow and kiss him. “I want you too,” I whisper.
“Good. Because it would be really fucking awkward if you didn’t.”
I laugh and pull him on top of me, feeling his cock start to harden. And then his alarm goes off. Groaning, he rolls off me and grabs his phone, turning the alarm off.
“Can you pretend you’re sick?” I ask when Dean settles back on top of me. I run nails up and down his back.
“You’re making me seriously consider it.”
“I know you really can’t,” I say, splaying my fingers over his shoulders. “But I can make you breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I want to. I got bacon last night and I really want some.”
“So making it for me is just a ruse.”
“Pretty much.” I splay my fingers over his shoulders, missing him already. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled.”
“Me too.” He kisses me once more and pries himself off me, looking for his clothes we discarded somewhere on the floor on the way to my bedroom last night.
Dean gets in the shower and I get up, pulling on underwear and a fuzzy sweater. I go to the kitchen, loading the dishwasher while breakfast cooks. I’m not a morning person even after years of getting up for early shifts as a nurse. But right now…right now I’m on cloud fucking nine and I never want to come down.
“Now this is a view I could get used to.”
I turn, seeing Dean standing in the threshold of the kitchen with only a towel around his waist.
“Likewise.”
“I think this needs to be a thing.” Dean comes up behind me, wrapping one arm around my waist. “No pants when you cook.”
“Can this thing go both ways?” I stir the eggs and set the spatula down, twisting around in Dean’s arms. “You don’t wear pants either?”
“I don’t think we’d ever eat a damn thing then.” He brings his large hands to my ass, gripping my cheeks. “Well, I’d eat.”
“I really don’t want you to go to work, and it’s not fair you have to work on the weekend. Especially when I’m not working on the weekend this week. I work every other weekend, in case you were wondering how that works.”
“That makes sense. And I usually don’t, but with the spring home tour coming up, I’m meeting with the town Board of Trustees.” He makes a face. “It’s going to be fun.”
“You have lunch to look forward to.” I stand on my toes and kiss him. “And if you’re a good boy, I’ll bring you dessert.”
Dean gives my ass another squeeze. “You know, I’m suddenly feeling sick. Too sick to go to work.”
“I know I should be a responsible adult and not encourage this kind of behavior, but dammit, Dean, I want you to play hooky too.”
“You’re a bad influence, Rory Harris.”
“I’m the worst.” He brings his head down, pressing his forehead against mine. And then bacon pops and hot oil splatters my butt.
“Ow!” I yell and jump, hand flying to my bottom. “Maybe cooking with no pants isn’t a good idea,” I laugh.
“Yeah, that could be dangerous.”
I flip the bacon once more and grab plates. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I’ll add a little sugar.”
“I don’t like the way coffee tastes. I probably drink more creamer than actual coffee, but I need caffeine. I get a headache if I don’t have at least one cup of coffee in the morning.”
“You’re addicted.”
“I have been since my first year of college.”
“There are worse things to be addicted to.”
I laugh. “Good point. Now go sit. Breakfast is ready.”“I’m sorry,” I say to Lennon, pulling into a parking spot in front of the Dawson Contractors main office. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t get the job.”