Play with Me (With Me in Seattle, #3)(49)

I love you too.

Why am I so f*cking afraid to say it?





Chapter Sixteen


Will



I could lie here all day and watch her sleep. God, she’s so f*cking beautiful. She is all gold skin and auburn hair against crisp white sheets. Her delicate face is soft in sleep, and little pink lips are slightly parted.

This week has been the best of my life. Hell, the month or so we’ve been together has been the best of my life, and that’s saying a lot because I know that I am one lucky son of a bitch.

But Meg makes everything incredible. She’s funny and smart and so damn talented.

And she’s asleep, in this bed, with me. It’s our last morning in New Orleans, and I must admit I regret that it’s over so quickly. I’ll be sure to take her away again as soon as the season ends. We’ll go to Europe, or Hawaii.

Fuck, anywhere she wants.

It’s been fun to watch her enjoy the amazing music of this city, the sounds and smells, the uniqueness that is New Orleans.

And I think it’s effing adorable to watch her eat beignets. Speaking of, I check the clock. I’m expecting a delivery in about ten minutes.

Meg stirs in her sleep, raises one arm up over her head, causing the sheet to slide down her body and expose one perfect breast, the nipple tight from being exposed to the cool air. Her beautiful auburn and blonde hair is fanned around her on her white pillow, and one knee is bent, laying against the bed.

Which means I could slip my hand between her thighs and wake her with my fingers inside her, but I wait. I want to watch her for a few more minutes.

I knew that I’d fall in love eventually. That I’d end up meeting a nice girl and we’d get married and have a few kids and a good life together.

But I had no idea that I could love someone so much that it absolutely consumes me. That being away from her for merely hours makes me want to punch someone in the face and the thought of anyone ever hurting her in any way just makes me completely nuts.

I would kill for this woman.

Or die.

I wasn’t kidding when I said she’s everything. She is.

At the light knock on the door I roll out of bed, pull on yesterday’s shorts and answer the door. I tip the delivery kid from Café Du Monde and carry the big bag of beignets and carrier of coffee to the bedside table, set it down, strip out of my shorts and climb back onto the bed.

She hasn’t moved a muscle.

My little lazy bones. Funny thing is, she’s the least lazy person I’ve ever known. She works tirelessly, and is always moving.

I love it when she’s moving beneath me.

With this in mind, I lean on my elbow near her head and lean down to kiss her cheek.

“Megan, wake up,” I croon softly to her and brush little wisps of hair off her neck.

“Hmph,” she answers with a moan and turns away from me.

“C’mon, lazy bones, wake up.” I plant little kisses on her bare shoulder and upper arm and slide my hand over her stomach and up to her breast, cupping it in my hand while I worry the nipple between my fingers.

I can’t get enough of her soft skin.

“I’m sleepy,” she murmurs and turns toward me, burrowing against me and settle in to sleep with her forehead pressed to my chest.

Fuck, she’s adorable.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” she asks, not moving.

“Yep, but you have to wake up to get it.”

“I don’t want it.”

Stubborn woman.

“Okay.” I back away and open the paper bag full of fresh, hot donuts, take one out and turn back to her. Her eyes are still closed.

I shake it over her shoulder, dropping powdered sugar on her skin and lean down and lick it off.

“Mmm,” I groan. “Good stuff.”

No response.

So I shake some more over her neck and dive after it, lapping it up.

She opens one eye, briefly, then snaps it shut quickly. I grin and pull the sheet down to her waist, exposing her perfect little body, and shake more sugar over her breasts.

I lick it up and then take a big bite of the beignet. “Open your mouth,” I instruct her, and she complies readily. I chuckle as I feed her the remaining portion of the fried dough, then dive in the bag for another and continue to shake the sugar on her delectable body, then eat the beignet, sharing pieces with her.

“I think you’ll need to be my plate more often, babe. You make everything taste sweeter.”

“Cheeky bastard,” she mumbles sleepily and I laugh out loud.

Grabbing a fresh donut, I move between her legs, shoulder her thighs wide apart and settle in for some fun.

Fuck, she’s already wet. Sleepy my ass. She’s playing with me.

God, I love her.

I shake some sugar over her * and watch it fall like snow on her pink flesh. Her clit is hard, that silver piercing just begging for my tongue. So I lean forward and lick her, from her soft folds to that warm metal, and all around, licking up every last bit of sugar, then take a bite of donut. I look up at her face and her eyes are open now, watching me, her gorgeous hazel eyes shining in lust, hands fisting the sheets. I offer her the donut, and she takes it from me and flings it over the side of the bed, licks her fingers and plunges them into my hair with a huge grin on her gorgeous face.