Outside the Lines(33)

I’m in that bed.

I blink, heart skipping a beat as it rises back into place. He doesn’t get under the covers, but he lays down and drapes his arm around me, resting his head against my stomach, which in turn presses on my bladder and reminds me I have to pee. Stupid bodily functions ruining the moment. I run my fingers through his hair.

“My turn,” I say softly and try to be as graceful as possible when I get out of bed and walk into the bathroom. I’m still naked, completely naked, and I know he’s watching.

I pee, wash my hands, and debate on taking my makeup off now or later. I decide on later mostly because I’m lazy. I’ll actually end up falling asleep with it on, like usual. There is a short nightgown hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It barely covers my ass, and is outlined in lace.

But it’s dark green with the Green Lantern symbol on the chest. Oh well. I pull it on, noticing that my nipples are still hard and very visible through the thin fabric. That’s definitely not a bad thing, not right now.

I go back in the room and get in bed next to Ben.

“So,” he starts and reaches for me. “How about a glass of wine?”





CHAPTER EIGHT





I wake up around ten AM that next morning. I have a slight headache, thanks to the two bottles of wine Ben and I polished off last night. We stayed up way too late drinking and drunk racing each other in Mario Kart. I think it was nearing four in the morning when we has sex again on my living room floor then wobbled into my room and passed out in bed together, naked and sweaty, and cuddling until we drifted off into a booze and sex-induced blissful sleep.

My mouth is dry, I need to use the bathroom, and probably brush my teeth. I run my hands over my face, feeling little crusts of mascara on my cheeks. Thank God I woke up before Ben.

He’s still sleeping, breathing deep and steady, and he’s lying on his stomach, arm wrapped around a pillow. He’s sprawled out, hogging over half the bed, and has the blankets tangled around his legs like he tried to kick them off in his sleep. I admire his bare ass for a minute then quietly get out of bed and slink into the bathroom.

Turning on the shower, I brush most of the knots from my hair while waiting for the water to warm, then jump in, brushing my teeth while the shampoo rinses from my hair. I re-shave my armpits because those fuckers grow a full head of hair overnight, but skip my legs for the sake of saving time.

I towel dry my hair the best I can, rake my fingers through it, and decide that’s good enough. Ben is still sleeping when I get dressed and pad into the kitchen to stick a K-cup in the Keurig. While the water is heating up, I preheat the oven and grab a can of cinnamon rolls from the fridge. I peel back the label and put it on the counter, pressing a spoon to the seam. Before I can actually push down, I close my eyes and turn away, like I’m clipping the red wire of a homemade bomb with three seconds left until detonation.

I fucking hate opening cans of biscuits.

I stick them in the oven before it’s at the optimal temp, but that’ll help them cook faster, right? Breakfast now cooking, I get a cup of coffee and pick up my phone. I need to talk to Erin. Stat.

I sit at my little island counter and send her a text.





Ben and I hooked up after one date! HOLY SHIT! But seriously, WTF do I do now? He’s still sleeping in my bed.





I add creamer to my coffee, waiting for Erin’s reply. I’m not sure if she’s working today or not, but if she is she’s probably busy decorating a wedding cake. My phone buzzes a minute later with a response from her.





Make him breakfast in bed, suck his dick, and tell him he’s the best you’ve ever had. Then offer anal. Definitely anal.





I raise an eyebrow. Hi, David, I type back. Is Erin around?





She’s at work, he replies. Left her phone at home. You really hooked up on the first date? Boo, you whore.





I smile and shake my head. He won’t admit Mean Girls is one of his favorite movies, yet he quotes it all the time.





Haha, thanks. Have Erin call me when she gets home, please, I type. He responds with a thumbs up emoji and I exit out of my texts. I scroll through Facebook, not really paying attention to what I’m looking at, as I wait for the rolls to finish baking, or for Ben to wake up. Whichever happens first.

They end up happening at pretty much the same time. I open the oven when Ben walks into the kitchen.

“Smells good,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say and set the hot pan on the stove. “There’s coffee too, if you want some.”

Ben rubs his temples. “I think I need some.” He gets himself a cup and sits at the island. I frost the rolls before they’ve cooled and the cream cheese frosting melts down the sides just the way I like it. I dish two up and take a seat next to Ben.