"I would argue that your intentions were dumb."
"I think you're supposed to compliment a woman whose bed you stole."
"I didn't steal your bed." He put down the spatula and turned. I swear to god, his abs winked at me. "I borrowed half of it. Stealing it would imply you had to sleep on the floor."
"Maybe I did. I was very asleep. You could have put me on the rug and I wouldn't have noticed." I picked up my empty plate and carried it over to the sink. "For all I know, you had the entire bed."
He grabbed me wrists and pulled me into his body. "Raven, you're the biggest starfisher I've ever met. If anybody stole the bed, it was you."
"It is my bed." I blinked up at him. "And I've had it to myself for a long time."
"That's because you talk in your sleep." He kissed the end of my nose. It was almost too tender, but I couldn't deny the fizz of delight I felt.
"I do not talk in my sleep." I prodded his chest.
"You totally talk in your sleep. You were asking someone to take the dog out at three a.m., and you don't even have a dog." His eyes crinkled as he smiled. "I asked you who the dog was, and you told me it was Satan's hellhound."
"Um."
"Apparently, Satan's hound was hungry."
"Um..." Crap.
"So, I'm starting to wonder what goes on in that pretty little head of yours." He pulled me even closer to him, dipping his head. "And if I should be scared you might kill me in my sleep."
"Look," I said, raising my eyebrows. "If I haven't killed you after twenty-something years of you pissing me off, I'm not gonna off you now that you're giving me orgasms."
"If I knew that was all it took to make you like me, I would have done it years ago. It would have been worth the risk."
"Is it worth the risk now?"
"I need another night in bed with you. Your dreaming about Satan's hellhound has given me doubts."
I pursed my lips, and he took that as an invitation to kiss me again. I didn't mind. He tasted like fresh coffee and smelled like sunshine. Whatever the fuck sunshine smelled like.
"Parker?" I murmured against his mouth. "Your omelet is burning."
He let go of me so fast I staggered back. True as hell, when he pulled the omelet off the heat and put it on a plate, the underside was a little...black.
"This is pure gold," I said, walking back toward my room, giggling a little too much. "The three-starred Michelin chef just burned an omelet."
His dark eyes locked onto me. "I'm going to leave this for Satan's hellhound. Just in case he's hungry tonight, too."
I stuck my middle finger up at him and headed into the bathroom. "If he is, and he comes, I hope he shits on your head!"
His laughter was the last thing I heard before I locked the door and started the shower.
Why did that feel all too natural?
***
Satan's hellhound.
I'd spent the entire morning figuring out how I could have possibly talked in my sleep. As far as I knew, I was a snorer, not a talker. Not that snoring was any better, but at least there was no chance of saying anything really dumb like I apparently had.
Where did that even come from? What the hell was going on in my subconscious mind?
Was the hellhound code for my brother? Or my crazy family?
Both were viable options.
It was why I was at my parents' house in Key West and not at work. Never mind that I still had an order to place. According to my mother, that could be done anywhere as long as I had my laptop and phone with me, but the seating plan for dinner at the reunion couldn't be done anywhere else or even brought to me. Nope, it had to be done on my mother's kitchen table with ten Karras' in the general vicinity.
I didn't expect it to go well.
In fact, I knew without a doubt it was going to go the way my dream apparently did last night-Hell. It was going to go to Hell, and it probably wouldn't even take the handbasket.
"Did anyone find Parker?" Mom asked, putting a mug of coffee in front of me.
"Find him? What is he? A lost puppy?" I rolled my eyes. "He was never lost, he was just...somewhere else and out of touch."
"Where was he last night?"
I shrugged and clicked my pen. "I don't know. He walked into the bar and I told him he needed to call his mom before a big, fat Greek search party got unleashed on the Florida Keys. He grumbled something about being almost thirty and not needing to check in with his mom every day, and I told him he should move out or quit bitching."