Page 83 of Fight Or Flight

Eric

Ten more minutes.

That’s what I tell myself as I silence the annoying alarm on my phone. I toss it on top of the end table, next to the three empty condom wrappers, and turn to face the sleeping beauty next to me. I reach for her thigh, pulling it over me just like I did before we fell asleep last night, and she follows the same script by draping her arm across my chest and burying her face in the crook of my arm. It's like we’ve been doing this our whole lives.

Content, I close my eyes and Stryker’s words ring loud in my ear.

A true soldier doesn’t fight because he hates what is in front of him, he fights because he loves what’s behind him.

In my case, I’m not fighting for what’s behind me, but rather what’s in my arms. I suppose it’s moments like this that drive men like me to lace up their boots.

Brooklyn presses her lips to my chest, and I open my eyes. Lifting her chin, she smiles lazily at me.

“Morning,” she murmurs softly.

Yeah, it’s moments like this.

I lift my head from the pillow and guide her lips to mine. I’m about to kiss her and show her just how fucking good of a morning it really is when she pulls away and covers her mouth.

“I didn’t brush my teeth yet,” she argues.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I suppress a chuckle.

“I think we’re well past that stage,” I tell her, sliding my hand up her thigh. “I’m more concerned with why you put your pajamas back on.”

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Well, what if your parents came down while we were sleeping?”

“If my parents don’t know what happened here last night, they’re deaf.” Confusion mars her pretty features. “Brook, baby, you weren’t exactly quiet last night,” I explain.

That shade of pink I’ve come to love flushes across her cheeks, and she swats my chest.

“I’m kidding.”

Not really.

She was loud, and it was fucking awesome.

Rolling her eyes, she reaches for my phone and her perky little tits taunt me through the fabric of her tank top. I almost cried last night when she insisted on putting her clothes back on.

Again, joking.

But waking up to a naked Brooklyn is high on my list of priorities. I just have to buy a deadbolt for the door, so she doesn’t worry about my parents finding her in my bed.

Anyway, back to those tits.

I pull the neckline away from her skin and peek down her shirt, mentally weighing if we have enough time for me to give the girls a little lovin’.

“Shit, I need to go before your dad starts his yoga routine and catches me sneaking up the stairs again.”

I pinch her nipple. Surely, we have at least five minutes before the big bad tiger morphs into a yogi. She swats my hand away and rights her shirt. I frown as she starts to scramble off the bed. The morning was looking so promising…damn my father and his fucking tranquility nonsense.

“Wait,” I call as she tiptoes toward the door. I’m not sure why she’s doing that, but it’s cute as fuck. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

She spins around, her eyebrows drawn close.

“Get back here,” I order, pointing a finger to my lips. “I don’t give a shit if you brushed your teeth or not, I want a kiss.”

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