Page 35 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
“Eden.” His voice was thick and restrained, as if every syllable cost him. “Darlin’, I need you to move.”
My brain immediately went into panic mode. “Oh my God, am I crushing you? Did I cut off your circulation? Are you dying?”
His lips twitched as he looked at me. “Not dying. But you’re makin’ it real hard to stay a gentleman right now.”
That’s when I registered what he was actually saying. I promptly tried to roll off him in the smoothest, most casual way possible . . . which, of course, meant I got tangled in the sheets, kneed him in the thigh, and flashed him a boob in the process.
Kill me now. Delete me from existence. Reboot the universe.
By the time I finally collapsed in a mortified heap on the other side of the bed, my face was on fire. “I swear I don’t usually assault people in my sleep.”
Jake turned his head, meeting my eyes with that devastating grin. “Good to know. But for the record—” his gaze dragged deliberately over me before returning to my face— “I didn’t mind.”
My ovaries promptly set themselves on fire too.
Jake didn’t miss a beat of it. That was clear from the way his eyes crinkled with amusement. He rolled onto his side and threaded his fingers into my hair. “I liked sleeping next to you,” he said right before bringing his mouth to mine.
Abort. Abort. ABORT.
My brain was flashing red warning lights like a system meltdown, and all I could think about was the very real, very unsexy fact that I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet.
His mouth was right there. Centimetres away. About to kiss me. And all I could picture was him pulling back mid-kiss, gagging like I’d just fed him expired milk.
“Wait!” My palm smacked against his chest, hard enough to startle him. “No.”
He stilled, eyes narrowing slightly, his fingers still tangled in my hair. “No?”
“No, I mean yes, but not like this,” I blurted, already flailing to extricate myself. “I have to brush my teeth first.”
The look in his eyes told me he had zero intention of changing his plans. “I don’t give a fuck about morning breath.”
“Well, I do!” I squeaked, pressing harder against his chest. “Seriously, I need a minute to become a human being again before you come near me.”
“I’ve been lying here watching you sleep on me, thinking how good you feel pressed against me. You think a little morning breath is gonna scare me off?”
“Oh my god, I was probably snoring.”
“You were.” He grinned. “It was cute as hell.”
I let out a pained noise. “Kill me now.”
“Not happening.” He loosened his hold on me. “I like learning these things about you. How you steal all the covers, and how you make these little humming sounds when you’re dreaming, and how you apparently think morning breath is more dangerous than anything else I might have to face in life.”
“Jake—”
He jerked his chin at me. “We’ll brush our teeth if it’ll make you feel better. But I’m telling you right now, it won’t change how much I want to kiss you.”
I stared at him, realising that he really, truly didn’t care. That he was looking at me like he couldn’t get enough of me, even with my questionable breath and messy morning hair.
Then, he was moving off the bed and heading into the bathroom. And I was left thinking about the fact I’d never dated a guy like him. A guy who didn’t make me feel dumb because of the little things that were important to me. My brain was absolutely going to over-analyse that data point on a loop for the rest of the day.
I followed Jake into the bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush. His eyes met mine in the mirror as I stood next to him, and he gave me a sexy smile around the pink toothbrush he was using. Honestly, only this guy could make brushing teeth together sexy.
When he finished, he moved behind me. Heat radiated from his body as he stepped in close. His hands came to my hips, firm and intent, and I nearly swallowed my toothpaste.
His mouth brushed my ear, sending a shiver through me. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice nothing but gravel that settled deep in me.
Was he blind? My hair was doing things I didn’t even have vocabulary for. It was less “messy chic” and more “wild crow nesting in despair.” Beautiful was not a word I’d use, but I took the compliment and filed it under “sweet lies I choose to believe.”
