I place a soft kiss on his lips and sigh contentedly. “This is nice. Why didn’t we see this for what it was earlier?”
Greyston chuckles and brings a hand up to play with the length of my damp hair. “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t, actually. Especially when I came to your parents’ place for dinner. I was an absolute mess.” He pauses, looking contemplative for a moment before smirking. “God, when you licked that whipped cream off your finger, I thought I was done for.”
Blushing, I give Greyston a little shrug. “Would it make you feel better if I admit that seeing you do the same thing almost made me pass out?” I pause briefly before continuing. “Why didn’t you just say something?”
He sighs. “I wanted to—so many times—but you’d just gotten out of a relationship, and I didn’t want to complicate our situation any more than I knew it would already be due to how I was starting to feel about you.” He laughs lightly. “And then you kept talking about Toby, and I just assumed…well, you already know what I thought.”
My body chooses that moment to remind me just how worn out it still is, and I yawn. “Oh, sorry,” I mumble through it.
“Don’t be. You’re still exhausted, and I promised you a nap.” He strokes my hair, and the sensation of his fingers on my scalp lulls my eyes shut. I feel his lips on my forehead before he rolls us both over so we’re lying on our sides, facing each other.
Even though the couch is more than wide enough for the two of us, I intertwine my legs with his and drape my arm over his waist to anchor me to him while we sleep. With his strong arms wrapped solidly around my upper body, I fall into the deepest sleep I’ve ever had.
When I wake the next morning, I go to my ensuite to wash up before heading downstairs to start breakfast. I tie my hair back and inspect my rash, fortunately seeing that it’s already clearing up. The bigger splotches are mostly gone, and some small, upraised pink spots remain. It’s a relief.
I take a couple more antihistamines and rub more cream on my neck and arms before washing my hands and brushing my teeth. Ready to start my day, I put my toothbrush back in its holder and head down to the kitchen to start breakfast.
I dig through the fridge and pantry for a few minutes before ultimately deciding on pancakes. Once I’ve gathered all of the ingredients, I put a frying pan on the stovetop to warm while I start mixing the batter. I add a dash of cinnamon to them, because my mom always does, and pour the first two onto the pan.
The sliding door opens as I pour the next couple of pancakes into the pan, and I turn to see Greyston walking in, drying his hair in his big fluffy towel. I may get a little distracted by the beads of water that are dripping from the ends of his hair and onto his shoulders. Of course, then they roll down his toned body in thin rivulets until they meet that sexy v-shaped muscle and disappear with it behind his trunks.
“That smells amazing,” he says, coming up behind me. “Cinnamon?”
“Yup. Mom makes them this way,” I explain, turning back to the pancakes.
Greyston’s left hand comes to rest on my hip while the other trails over my neck and shoulder. “I can’t believe how much better this looks today.” I shiver when his hand continues down my arm and ensnares the other hip, and my hand clenches the spatula when his lips touch down just below my ear. “How was your sleep?” he asks in a gravelly voice, his warm breath fanning over my neck.
I sigh, letting my head fall to the side to allow him better access. “Good. Yours?”
He kisses me again, just below the last spot. “Same,” he admits, turning me around to face him. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to fall asleep, knowing you are just across the hall?” His hands are now flat on my back, but his fingers are teasing the hemline of my shirt before they slip under.
My brain goes a bit foggy as his fingers stroke the skin of my lower back, and I clear my throat. “I think I have a basic understanding about how hard it might have been.” It doesn’t dawn on me—what I’ve said, and moreover, how he took it—until Greyston smirks and his eyebrow arches suggestively. This is all it takes for me to push through the lusty haze. “You’re filthy,” I tease, poking his wet, naked chest. “That’s not what I meant.” With a laugh, I turn to flip the pancakes.
Greyston chuckles, resting his chin on my shoulder so he can watch me. “How long do I have until breakfast, beautiful?”
It’s the first time he’s called me by anything other than my name, and I have to admit, it makes me a little weak-kneed. “About fifteen minutes.”