Page 68 of Common Grounds

If only. I have to get to the shop to get muffins and cookies in the oven in time to open up. I’ve never cursed my choice of employment, but I’m coming close right now. I’d give up any potential income for a few more hours in bed with Emery.

I press a light kiss to her forehead. I can’t resist it. I don’t mean to wake her, but her eyelids flutter open.

“Good morning, sreco,” I whisper.

She searches my face, sleep clearing from her eyes after a moment. A smile stretches across her features, completely lighting up the room.

Who needs the sun? Emery can smile at me like this every morning, instead.

Every morning? The realization gives me pause. Up until last night, I hadn’t thought I had a chance with her again, let alone the possibility of a real future. But, yes, I want to wake up every morning like this. Of course I do.

“Mmm,” she stretches again. “It doesn’t look like morning.”

I chuckle, lightly tracing circles on her bare back. “Well, it’s a little after four o’clock.”

She drapes an arm over me. “That’s an oddly specific time for wake-up sex, but I can make it work.” She kisses my shoulder.

I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I wish I was waking you up for that, but I have to get to the shop.”

The smile falls from her face as she eyes me warily. “At four in the morning?”

“Those muffins aren’t going to make themselves,” I tease as I lean. She lets me kiss her, but then pulls away, her eyes wide.

“My breath has to be awful.”

I shake my head, kissing her again. “Everything about you is sweet, sreco. Even your morning breath.”

“That’s such bullshit,” she says, rolling to her back. Her perfect breasts peek out of the top of the comforter, and I have to clasp my hands together against the urge to touch them. She rubs her eyes with her palms. “And speaking of bullshit, why am I awake at four in the morning, again?”

I laugh heartily. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep if you want. But I do need to get going.”

She stiffens slightly. “I…” she trails off, staring straight up at the dark ceiling. Her head flops helplessly in my direction.

“You don’t have to if that’s weird,” I say quickly.

“It might be a little weird,” she admits. “I’m sorry.” She’s silent for a minute before she laughs lightly. “You probably don’t want to leave a journalist alone in your apartment, anyway. I’m very good at snooping for information.”

“What about journalistic integrity?” I play along. It feels like I’m part of a special club of people she jokes around with now, and I like it.

“Doesn’t apply here,” she counters. “I wouldn’t use it in a story, so it’s really just a transferrable skill.”

I chuckle. “Transferable to what? Finding dirt on your partners?”

“Yes,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Then a laugh bubbles up out of her, like she had been holding it back through that whole exchange.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to find better hiding places for all the illicit items in this place before I allow you here unattended.” I kiss her again. “Come with me, then.”

She kisses back. “To the shop?”

I run my tongue along her bottom lip, drawing a gasp from her. “Yes.”

“At four in the morning?”

“It’s very quickly going to be not-four-in-the-morning if I don’t get moving.”

“Hmm,” she hums. I’m a little surprised to find myself holding my breath, awaiting her answer. I don’t want to leave her. But if I have to leave this apartment, the next best thing would be to tuck her into me and take her with.

She stifles a yawn, then laughs again. I want to record that sound.

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