Page 94 of Top Shelf
Despite her protests, I swoop her into my arms and carry her through the living room and to my bedroom. She giggles sleepily when I drop her on the bed, then pulls me down right on top of her.
“Hi,” she says with a wide grin.
“Hi yourself.” I kiss her gently, not missing how she arches her hips up to me. “Are you trying to get frisky with me, Nessa?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “Maybe.”
Then she yawns again, and I laugh.
“Maybe next time,” I say, kissing her again, then rolling away.
“Wait. Where are you going?” she complains, but her eyes are already closed again.
“Bathroom. Go to sleep, love.”
She grins, already half asleep as she says, “I love it when you call me that.”
I know she does, which is why I do it so often.
When I come back out, she’s dead asleep. There would be no waking her up if I tried, which I don’t want to. I have something to take care of. I slip out of the bedroom and tiptoe through the living room and down the hall that leads to the other bedroom. Nessa has given me so much since I’ve known her, and now I want to give her something too.
I step into my spare bedroom and get to work.
“Okay, I really need you to stop being so perfect.”
I turn to find a sleepy-looking Nessa in nothing but my shirt. She must have traded it for her own before coming out here, and I’m not surprised. She loves wearing my clothes almost as much as I love seeing her in them.
I finally crawled into bed about two and a half hours ago, but I was restless. I try to blame it on the jet lag, but with how much I travel, I’m immune to it. It’s all because of the blonde cutie padding into the kitchen and slipping her arms around me.
“Mmm,” she says, pressing her lips against the middle of my back. “It smells good. What are you making?”
“Just bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. Nothing fancy.”
“Anything is fancy if I don’t have to make it.”
Since Nessa moved in, we’ve settled into a routine where I make breakfast whenever I’m home and she makes or orders dinner. I tried to argue with her over it at first because I didn’t let her move in so she could take care of me, but she wasn’t hearing it. She claimed it was the least she could do for giving her somewhere to live.
She doesn’t know I’d give her anything. All she has to do is ask.
“I’ll grab the plates,” she says, moving to the cabinet I know she can’t reach.
I watch in amusement as she struggles to get them out. I could move them lower, sure, but what would be the fun in that? I enjoy the view of her trying to reach them far too much to do that, especially when her shirt—myshirt—rides up and gives me a peek of her ass.
When she struggles for just long enough, I turn off the burners and drop the spatula, then go to her. I press against her, just like I have so many other times, and reach over her to grab the plates. I kiss the back of her neck, sweeping the tendrils of hair that have managed to escape her messy bun out of the way.
She sighs, leaning into my touch. “You do this on purpose, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” I say against her skin. “It is a nice show.”
“Show? Is that what you think I’m putting on when I can’t reach the plates?”
“No.” I slide my hand down her back, cupping those beautiful cheeks she just gave me a glimpse of. “But I’m sure you’re genuinely annoyed. Thing is, sometimes I like to annoy you. You turn into a bit of a brat when I do.”
She laughs lightly. “I knew it. I knew you like it when I get sassy.”
“To be fair, I like everything about you, love.”
I feel her shiver in my arms at the nickname, remembering how she said last night that she loves it.
