Page 225 of Hot Mess
Ashley made it so I wasn’t. I felt safe with him, even though some part of me told me I probably shouldn’t.
He told me he’s not falling in love with me.
But I just didn’t believe him.
I knew what I felt when I was with him, and I saw the things in his eyes he wouldn’t say. He knew it as well as I did.
We justfit.
And I didn’t even know why. There was no explaining it.
It was justchemistry.
We had it.
I’d never really known it could be this good with a man. Thatsexcould be this good. I’d had some pretty great sex before. I’d been in love before, or so I’d thought.
But I’d never felt… this.
This tide of feelings washing over me as I looked over at him, lying in his bed, with his guard down and half-asleep… his eyes flickering open as he woke up and looked at me.
And smiled, just a bit.
Then he rolled over toward me, stretched, and kissed my shoulder.
I sighed with happiness.
“Where you going?” he asked in a soft, gravelly morning voice, like I’d been on my way out of bed or something.
“Nowhere.”
His smile grew. He flopped back on his pillow. “Why isn’t there room service in this dump?”
“I know. I don’t want to get up, ever.”
“I’m hungry, though. You drained me last night.”
I grinned. “Okay. I’ll be your room service. Give me a sec.” I rolled out of bed before he could grab me and stop me. He tried. I dodged and snagged his T-shirt off the floor. I slipped it on, tugging it slowly over my naked curves, flashing him a little. “Oooh, she puts on his shirt,” I teased. “It’s a whole new level of intimacy.”
He snorted. “Hopefully it doesn’t stink.”
I sniffed it. “Smells amazing.”
“Where you going in that?”
“I told you… room service!” I sang over my shoulder as I headed out of the room.
When I returned a few minutes later, I had some of our leftovers warmed up and some of Mireille’s pastries on a couple of plates. And a jug of pineapple juice under my arm.
“You should really buy stock in pineapples,” I told him. “You’re always drinking this stuff.”
“Okay, weird fact,” he said, as he took the jug from me and arranged the pillows for us to sit up against. “I read somewhere, years ago, that pineapple makes a guy’s come taste better. Started drinking it then, got hooked, and never stopped.”
I giggled as I climbed into bed with him. He took the plates from me and we got comfy. “Is it true?”
“No idea.” He set a plate on my lap. “Thanks for this.”
“You never did a taste test?”
