Page 55 of Nothing to No One

TWENTY

THE WARMTH OF HIS mouth roused her from sleep.

“Mmm,” she moaned, tipping her lips higher.

He could have all the access he wanted.

“Go back to sleep, Fawn.”

Another kiss.

When he scooted away an inch, she grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?” she mumbled, eyes open to slits.

“I’m getting up.”

“Getting up? It’s still dark out.” Eyes closing again, she wriggled closer. “You’re not getting up.” Still half asleep, she frowned. “Are you sneaking away? Did I ask too much? Am I being clingy and in—”

His kiss silenced her. “I get up at four thirty every day, babe.”

She heard but didn’t understand. “Why would anyone do that on purpose?”

“It’s my job.”

In the face of his amusement, she was just confused.

“Your job to get up and—” She blinked, seeking his gaze in the shadow. “You’re going to the gym?”

“Basement fitness suite, but, yeah.”

“You’re getting up out of bed at four thirty in the morning to go get shredded?” The angle of his brow didn’t seem certain how to respond. “Man, you’re dedicated.” Laying a hand on his cheek, she rose to kiss him. “Come lay down with me again when you’re done. If you have time; if you want.”

“I’ll be around when you wake up.”

“Good.” She pulled the covers to her chin. “I’ll dream about you getting pumped and sweaty.”

His next kiss proceeded a snicker. “You do that, B.”

Ah, bed. Yes, the man was incredible, but the gym at four thirty? Talk about stamina. Hmm, nice, another nuance for her dream.

***

UNFORTUNATELY, THOUGH THE dream had a happy ending, her bed was empty when she woke. Well, the guy had been there when it counted last night, she’d forgive him his dedication.

And it wasn’t so disappointing to go downstairs because he was in the kitchen, chopping, dicing, blender on the counter, back to her.

She crept over, given cover by him hitting the blender button. Darting closer, she smacked his ass and leaped to the side. With barely enough time to register her, he whipped around, scooping her up with one arm to dump her on the counter.

Her laugh was lost in the depth of his kiss. Right there, in the middle of the kitchen, she wound her legs around him, clamping him tight to her. Not that he was going anywhere, he held her head when his lips teased hers, but those hands descended to her ass as their passion grew.

“I want to taste your parsnip,” she breathed.

His head rose in a tilt. “That’s a new one.”

On a laugh, she socked his arm. “Your smoothie.”

Was that really better?

“Ah,” he said, admiring her lips. “You’ve got to share yours first.”

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