“You sleep okay?” I want to ask him question after question to keep him talking. I’m far too enthralled with hearing his morning voice.
I nod, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. “I slept great. You?”
“I’ve never slept better.” He grins, turning his face toward the pillow as if he’s embarrassed by admitting that. His arms tighten around me, pulling me to his chest so I can’t see his face.
“I wouldn’t have guessed that,” I mumble against his strong chest. “I swear I remember you checking my forehead throughout the night.”
He puts his jaw over my head, fitting our bodies together like perfect puzzle pieces. “I did. But I still slept great. Except for your little snores.”
I gasp. “I don’t snore.”
He chuckles, his chest vibrating against my cheek. “Oh yes you do. It’s adorable, shortcake.”
Groaning, I pull away from him so I can look him in the eye. He’s grinning ear to ear, embarrassment prickling my cheeks as blood rushes to them from finding out I snored all night.
“I can’t help it that I’m sick! My throat hurt. That’s the only reason I was snoring.”
“I guess I’ll have to sleep next to you again to find out. I’ll have to test it over multiple nights until I make a final conclusion if you snore or not.”
My heart flutters in my chest as if I’m a silly schoolgirl again and my crush just looked my way. The more time we spend together, the more giddy I get around him.
“Should I take your silence as you telling me that I won’t get to test my theory? Am I not allowed back in your bed, shortcake?”
He spins us, his body rolling on top of mine, his weight pushing me into my mattress. “Think about your answer very carefully.” He grinds his hips into me, bringing attention to his morning wood.
I suck a shaky breath in, getting more and more turned on by the second by the way his hips rock against mine.
“That depends,” I manage to get out, trying not to moan when he peppers kisses along my neck.
“Depends on what?”
His hair is a perfect, tousled mess. It falls into his eyes, making him seem boyish. I like this non-perfect, more raw version of him. I could get used to seeing what he looks like every morning before he puts on a suit and gels his hair.
“It depends if you stay on my good side or not.”
His grin is wolfish as he holds eye contact with me for a moment before bringing his lips to the other side of my body.
Groaning, I look at the time on my phone. I should already be making a smoothie for the morning and heading out to the cafe. Since I wasn’t there yesterday, I don’t know what still needs to be prepared and what doesn’t. My employees are great, but I’m sure there’s still a lot more for me to do before opening this morning compared to other mornings.
Which means I can’t let Camden continue on the path his lips are moving. If I do, I might end up in bed with him all day.
“I have to get up,” I tell him, my fingernails skirting down his shirtless back. I like feeling his muscles against me. Having him in just a pair of boxer briefs as we greet each other in the morning. It seems so mundane. And definitely something I’d never expected. He was only supposed to be the grumpy asshole art dealer next door. Now, he’s the man with his lips pressed against my pulse, sending shivers down my spine.
“Stay in bed with me,” he counters, nipping at my ear.
“I have to work. You have to work.”
“Who cares about work? I’d much rather work your body all. Day. Long.” He punctuates every word with a kiss.
I squeeze my eyes shut, almost giving in to the temptation. My mind fills with all the possibilities for the day. We’d barely have to leave this bed. He could worship my body, let me worship his, until we finally felt what it was like for him to push inside me.
I’m busy thinking if I can call in sick again when I push against his chest. I don’t push hard, but my palms against his defined pecs make his lips pause, his head lifting.
“So you’re going to be the responsible one today?”
I laugh, nodding my head. “Apparently, someone has to be. Aren’t you a workaholic? I can’t believe you’re trying to get me to play hooky with you so we can have sex.”
Damn. He looks good with a grin. He’s so cocky and sure of himself, the smile making me squeeze my thighs together because of how much I love seeing the upturn of his lips and the gleam in his eyes.
“Fucking you all damn day seems like the perfect excuse to play hooky.”