Page 61 of Text Me Baby One More Time

Shepard:I will. It really helps me sleep at night.

Shepard:Speaking of sleep…I need to hit the hay. Apparently I need to get up early and hit the pavement if I want to get a job so I can afford your Christmas present.

Denver:I’ll take a tan or black pug. I’m not picky.

Shepard:In the words of Aerosmith…DREAM ON.

Denver:Fine. Just make sure the purse is purple, you ass.

Denver:Good night, Cap.

Thirteen

Shepard

“Oh, fuck me,”I mutter as I peer out the balcony door.

Denny’s standing in the cold, the morning sun outlining her figure as she stares out over the horizon.

Steve sits at her feet, staring up at her like she’s a goddess.

Watch it, Steve. I called dibs a long time ago.

She must have rooted around in my drawers because she’s wearing one of my t-shirts—the number 23 stamped across her back is a dead giveaway—and a pair of my shorts that are way too big on her.

Guess she forgot pajamas in that Mary Poppins bag of hers.

Not that I mind. Seeing her in my clothes…well, it makes my already aching cock really fucking sorry it’s not buried inside of her right now.

It could be, though.

I could march out there, scoop her up into my arms, and carry her back to my bedroom then spend the entire day inside her.

We both know I could do it. We both know she would let me.

And I want to…so fucking bad.

But AJ just called, and he and Allie want to do breakfast with their best man and maid of honor.

Duty fucking calls.

As if she can feel my eyes on her, she turns around and gives me a small wave.

I hold my hand up, telling her staying out there is fine. The last thing I need is for her to come in here and see my morning wood.

Coffee?I mouth.

She nods and turns back around to the view before her, paying me no mind as I continue to scroll my eyes over her body. So many curves, so much softness and sass rolled into one.

With reluctance, I turn away and head into the kitchen. I pull the canister of coffee from the cabinet and brew half a pot, which should be plenty for the two of us.

The balcony door slides open and Steve comes scampering inside, his feet barely getting traction on the hardwood floors.

“Morning, you little shit.”

“Well, good morning to you too,” Denny says.

“I meant this little traitor, but yes, good morning to you.”

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