Page 37 of A Guy Walks Into My Bar
I wipe his chest, his stomach. I dip my face to him, planting a soft kiss on his clean pecs before I return to the bathroom and toss the washcloth on the floor.
Seconds later, I’m back in bed, and I need to feel him against me. I need the contact. So I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close, his back to my chest, and I sigh.
Happily.
So damn happy.
“Stay the night,” I say.
“Was kicking me out previously on your list of options?”
I laugh. “No. I just didn’t know if you would stay. Will you? Spend the night with me?”
He shifts around to look me in the eyes. “What part of all night long made you think I was leaving?”
I shake my head, still a little too blissed-out to think straight. “I dunno. I just want you here, whether we’re screwing or not.”
He doesn’t say anything to that—just gives me that studious once-over. “‘Or not’ . . . what will we do with the ‘or not’ part?”
I wrap my arms tighter around him, nuzzling him. “This. Just this.”
“The things we do,” he says, filling in the dots.
“Yeah, the things we do,” I say, then brush a kiss to his cheek. Even after what we just did, my chest still does some kind of flip just from kissing him.
Dean slides out of my arms, shifting to his other side, facing me. “I never planned to leave.”
And my chest flips again. “God, you make me want to kiss you again.”
I grab the covers, pull them up over us, and get close to him again, kissing him in the way you kiss someone after that kind of sex, that kind of intensity.
Tender, gentle, a little wrung out from the Os.
And hungry for more of him.
Although ravenous is more like it.
In the morning, all I want is to spend the day with him, so I ask in the best way possible if he’ll do just that.
MONDAY
Also known as the day it starts.
17
Dean
On the list of surprises in my life, I would not count this—a middle-of-the-night session with the tireless Fitz.
I absolutely expected it.
Wanted it.
Craved it.
The man can truly go all night, which is a complete unshock.
And though he has the stamina of a pro athlete in the bedroom, I have an equally large appetite between the sheets.
For him.
And for our visit to the three-a.m. club, I pick the position, choosing one I quite enjoy, getting on my hands and knees. It works spectacularly well for both of us, especially when he presses his hand between my shoulder blades, pushing me down to the perfect angle.
And I conk out shortly after.
Hours later, when the sun rises and I stretch awake, he’s there with a “Morning, sunshine” that’s facetious and sweet all at once. He leans in for a smooch, and when I smell his minty breath, I shake my head.
“I don’t think we’ll do that when you smell like springtime and I’m a swamp.” A quick trip to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth with an extra hotel toothbrush and take a piss, and I’m back in bed. Then he gets his morning smooch. “There.” I grab the covers, turn on my side, and yawn. “Go back to sleep, Fitz. I’m sure you’re Mr. Crack of Dawn, but I enjoy a morning lie-in.”
“Fine. If you insist.”
And he insists on wrapping his arms around me, which I don’t mind at all.
But I only drift off for a little while before I’m woken again—this time by something worth waking up to.
Fitz between my legs, sucking me off.
Well, good morning to me.
It’s the perfect wake-up call, an unhurried blow job that I luxuriate in, enjoying every single delicious second of it.
After, he slides next to me, his eyes flirty. “What are you doing today?”
I shrug happily as I stretch, enjoying the aftereffects. “I’m off work.”
“Spend the day with me.”
I shoot him a suspicious look. “Did you give me a morning BJ just to get me to say yes to spending the day with you?”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “I did. Did it work?”
I give a sigh—the deep, contented kind. “Seems it did.” I prop myself on my elbow. “What about Emma?”
“She has orientation stuff on campus. I’ll catch her in the early evening.”
“All right. What do you have in mind? Eager to see Kensington Palace? The Tower of London and the Crown Jewels? Or more of my crown jewels?”
“The latter, obvs. I have a riverboat cruise booked tomorrow with Ems, but today I was hoping to go to London Bridge. I’ve been instructed by my buddy Logan’s seven-year-old to take a photo on it, and I can’t turn Amelia down.”
“Ah, she wants to make sure it’s not falling down.”
Fitz taps his nose. “Bingo.”
I stroke my chin as if deep in thought. “And you find yourself in need of a tour guide again.”
