Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Are you spending the night?”
He cocked his head. “Is that cool?”
I smiled, nodding slowly. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
We showered, then tumbled into bed. The second my head hit the pillow and Tegan put his arm around my waist, I was out.
11
Declan
“Mornin’.” The hint of humor in Tegan’s deep voice made me smile.
I grunted, rubbing sleep from my eyes before turning to face him. “You’re here.”
“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d sneak out, did you?” He set a proprietary hand on my hip. When I didn’t respond right away, he shook his head. “I wouldn’t. Besides, your bed is more comfortable than mine.”
I snickered. “I know. What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
“Fuck. That’s late.”
“We were up till four…or later. Like true rock and roll boys.” Tegan massaged my left ass cheek, trailing a finger along my crack.
I shifted to my stomach to give him better access. “Hmm. How are we going to do this on the road?”
He reached over me and fumbled for the lube. I closed my eyes, humming my approval at the feel of his cool finger.
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.” He kissed my shoulder and pushed the lube-slicked digit inside me, slowly.
“Mmm. Yes.” I parted my thighs to give him room to work. “Talk…we should do that.”
We didn’t.
I wasn’t sure it was possible to improve on last night, but I loved morning sex. And this was very fucking good. The torturously slow push and pull with sweet kisses lit every nerve ending in my body. I loved the feel of his weight and his strength surrounding me, taking me over. And when Tegan slid his hand to stroke me to the finish line, we came together.
We showered again before stumbling into the kitchen in search of caffeine and food.
I peered at him over my coffee cup and grinned.
“That color really brings out your—”
“Eyes?” he supplied, flashing a bright smile at me across my small kitchen table.
“Nipples.”
Tegan tweaked said nipples through the thin green cotton tee. “Aw, thanks.”
I chuckled. “I kind of like the no-shirt option best, but you look sexy.”
“You’re all about the bod, eh?”
“I’m shallow like that, but I usually go for skinny types. You were smaller than me when we were kids.”
“Huh. I guess that’s true. I was way too skinny. You could barely see me sideways. Runs in the family. Monroes start out wimpy and hit a growth spurt late. It’s a horizontal growth spurt too. I used to eat weird protein shakes to put weight on, and now I’ve got the opposite problem.”
“You don’t have a weight problem.”
“If I didn’t work out, I would,” he argued.
“It wouldn’t matter to me. I’d still think you were sexy,” I said unthinking.
“Right,” he snorted.
“It’s true. I like the way you move. You’re confident, strong, and steady. You know who you are, and you stick to your convictions. Maybe it’s a drummer thing. I like that you can sit down and lose yourself in a beat. You don’t have to say a word to lead. I envy that.”
“You’re good at what you do too. I think I told you so, but if I didn’t…you were awesome last night.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He bit into his bagel and scanned the kitchen. “What’s with the dish towels?”
I narrowed my gaze at the abrupt segue. “Huh?”
“You have a nice place, but really crappy dish towels,” he commented idly, pointing at the faded red and white wispy bit of fabric hanging over the edge of the farmhouse-style sink. “And don’t get me started on your bath mat.”
I busted up laughing. “Are you bath-mat-shaming me?”
“Yep. Have you ever washed that thing?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t remember. Probably.”
“Probably not.”
“For a guy who lives like a college student, you’re fancy about weird things.”
Tegan did a comedic double take. “Fancy? Me? If washing crusty toothpaste off a bath mat is fancy…guilty. Your whole condo is fancy. It deserves a better bath mat. And dish towels. What’s the story with this place? It doesn’t look like you.”
“It’s not mine. It’s one of my mom’s investment properties. She bought it and staged it to sell around the same time I was looking for a place in the area. She suggested that I move in until it was ready to go on the market. What she really wants is for me to sell it.”
“I thought she was the agent in the family.”
“We all are.”
Tegan’s brows knit together. “You’re a secret agent?”
“I have a real estate license. Does that count?”
“Whoa. Wow. You have a real estate license?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? I mean, that’s cool…if that’s your thing. Is it?” he asked carefully. Like I’d just revealed a vaguely disturbing detail he might need to process.
“Hell, no! I told my mom I had zero interest in joining the family firm, but she doesn’t listen. I’ve been here for a year. I caught on that she never intended to sell it within the first month, so I’ve been paying rent into a secret account. That way she can’t hold this place over me as guilt collateral,” I huffed. “I need to move, but in a twist, I can’t afford not to live here. For now, anyway.”