After Hours (InterMix)(60)

“You sticking around for day two?” he asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really. But you could probably make a run for it now, while I’m incapacitated.”

I laughed. “I think I’ll stay right here.” Right here, where everything felt surprisingly simple. Where my worries faded to abstract concepts. Where our Saturday shift felt weeks away, and life was no more complicated than the needs of our naked bodies, the world no wider than his bed.

“I’m curious to see what round two will look like.”

“It’ll look like whatever I want it to,” Kelly said, but a yawn sucked all the ominousness from his words.

“Don’t fall asleep. You promised me dinner.”

I wound up regretting the comment; a minute later Kelly dragged himself from the bed, putting an end to the cuddling I was secretly enjoying.

And there he was. Kelly, just Kelly. Just a naked man rendered docile by his release, muscles beautiful but stripped of all threats. In that instant, those once-intimidating bruises made him seem heartbreakingly fragile.

I watched him pull on a fresh pair of shorts, his eyes catching mine as he straightened the waistband.

“Yeah?”

“Just looking at you. While you’re still tranquilized.”

That earned me a grin. “How do you like your steak?”

“Medium.”

Kelly nodded, heavy lids blocking all the coldness from his stare. “Whatever you say.”





Chapter Ten


I woke when the first light of dawn kissed my eyelids. Was it five? Six? Later? For a second I cared, then the weight of Kelly’s arm registered, a pleasurable anchor draped over my ribs.

One of my hands was limp and numb and I fidgeted as gently as I could, trying not to wake him. I thought I’d succeeded for a breath, then he let loose a low, groggy noise.

I craned my neck, watching his eyes open to the narrowest slits.

“Mhh.”

“Good morning, Kelly.”

“Morning.”

Sleep had left me fearless, and the morning chill had me craving his heat. I grasped his wrist and lay his arm along my waist, wriggling closer. In the back of my head, I knew I wouldn’t be so snuggly with Kelly, were I more awake. But just now . . . No blanket was this cozy, no comforter so warm and encapsulating.

He did as I secretly wished, tugging me close. A happy noise hummed against my neck, chased by the lazy press of his lips. I luxuriated in the contact, knowing this sleepy, easy Kelly wouldn’t last. This man was by turns cold and hot, controlled and crazed. For this brief moment he was none of those things. Just warm, just calm. Just some mysterious sliver of sedate, satisfied Kelly Robak, one I knew intuitively I was blessed to glimpse. The most elusive of species.

After round one of sex, Kelly had cooked us steaks, and we ate them on his back patio with bottles of beer, sipping until the sun was sinking, shooting the shit about work.

Round two had been a frenzy. No waiting, no teasing, no games. Just straight-up nasty f*cking on his bed, fast and rough and utterly exhausting. After the bare minimum of tidying up, we’d passed out, crawling under the covers at some vague hour after our sweat had cooled.

I could smell the sex, there in his sheets. I could feel it between my legs and in the rawness of my hips and the carpet burn on my elbows.

Against my nape, the soft press of his mouth firmed to a true kiss. I craned my neck so our lips could meet, breath be damned. A romantic start to the day, I thought, my body rousing equally from pleasure and alarm.

“Morning,” he said again.

“What’s for breakfast?”

He laughed, the tiniest nasal huff. “What would you like?”

“Pancakes?”

“I don’t think I have the ingredients for that.”

“You tell me, then.” I grinned, registering my choice of words. “That’s what you like, after all. Doing the telling. I’ll answer when asked.”

He smiled back. “I’m not awake enough to be a bossy dick yet. But I got eggs and bread, and bacon, I think. It’s that or cereal and milk.”

“Eggs, then.” I rolled up onto my side and forearm, gazing down at that rare sight—Kelly, declawed. His mood-ring eyes were neutral gray, summer clouds that threatened no rain.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re sexy.”

I blushed, which probably just exacerbated whatever baby-faced breed of hotness he was finding in me.