Page 66 of Just The Way You Aren't

Before I can respond, he rolls me beneath him, his expression a mixture of tenderness and renewed desire that makes my breath catch.

"Starting now," he whispers, lowering his head to claim my lips once more.

CHAPTER 21

DAMIEN

Iwake up to the sound of Willow's alarm—not mine, because I apparently slept through my usual 6 AM wake-up call for the first time in a decade. The realization that I'm not even remotely panicked about this minor schedule disruption should probably worry me more than it does.

Christ, what a night. The memories of Willow beneath me, around me, crying out my name in a way that's burned into my brain forever—it all comes rushing back. I've had my share of great sex, but nothing like this. Nothing that left me feeling like I'd been turned inside out and reassembled. Nothing that made me want to wake up and do it all over again.

Willow stretches beside me, and I can't help but smile at how her wild red hair has achieved new levels of chaos overnight. It's sticking up in directions that defy physics. Even disheveled, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Morning," she mumbles, burrowing into my chest.

"Good morning," I reply, pressing a kiss to the top of herhead. Just then, I hear the distinctive sound of claws clicking on hardwood, followed by an expectant whine.

"That would be Tiny letting us know he needs to go out," Willow explains, not moving. "And probably the others demanding breakfast."

I glance at the clock. Seven-thirty. No meetings until ten. When was the last time I had this kind of leisurely morning?

When was the last time I wanted a leisurely morning? The thought hits me like a freight train. I've spent the better part of a decade filling every minute of every day, and suddenly all I want is more time in this bed with this woman.

"How about I handle breakfast while you take the dogs out?" I suggest, surprising myself with how natural the offer feels.

She props herself up on her elbow, eyeing me skeptically. "You know how to cook?"

Jesus.The movement makes the sheet slip, exposing the curve of her shoulder and the swell of one breast. My mouth goes dry as I remember exactly how she tastes, how she feels under my hands and lips.

"I can manage eggs and toast without burning the place down," I say with mock indignation, though my voice comes out rougher than intended. "Our chef taught me a few things when I was younger. Something about impressing girls."

"Oh, is that what this is?" she teases, sliding out of bed. "Impressive breakfast skills?"

I watch her pull on a tank top and yoga pants, mesmerized by the way the fabric clings to her curves. Even now, after spending most of the night exploring every inch of her body, I want her again. It's almost embarrassing how badly I want her.

"Among other things," I reply, watching her pull on yogapants. Even in the most casual clothes, she's stunning. More than stunning. She's addictive.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes," she promises, leashing up Tiny and Spike. "Fair warning—the coffee maker is temperamental. You have to sweet-talk it a bit."

After they leave, I lie there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling.What the hell is happening to me?I've never felt this way about anyone. Protective. Possessive. Completely besotted.

I explore her kitchen. It's small but well-organized, with a collection of mismatched mugs hanging from hooks and a refrigerator covered in photos and shelter adoption announcements. I find what I need for breakfast, though I have to coax the coffee maker through several attempts before it finally cooperates.

As I'm whisking eggs, Rufus appears on the counter, watching my every move with keen interest.

"Not for you," I tell him, gently setting him back on the floor. He immediately jumps back up. "I see we're going to have to negotiate."

By the time Willow returns, I've managed to prepare two decent omelets, though Rufus has taste-tested more of the bacon than I'd planned.

"It smells amazing," she says, releasing the dogs. Tiny immediately investigates my legs while Spike heads straight for his water bowl. "I can't believe you actually cooked."

The way she looks at me—like I've just performed a minor miracle—does something to my chest. No woman has ever appreciated something so simple before.

"Don't sound so shocked," I laugh, handing her a plate. "Though I should warn you, Rufus may have some conflicting information about how the bacon turned out."

With her plate of food in one hand, she grabs some silverware for both of us from one of the crooked drawers. "You let him sample it?"

The brush of her fingers against mine as she hands me a fork sends electricity up my arm. God, I'm like a teenager. One night with her and I'm reacting to every casual touch.

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