I wake up to the smell of food. Bacon, specifically. Which causes my belly to let loose noises that generally come attached to a biker in a taco-eating contest.
Callum chuckles as he slides in under the covers beside me. “I thought you might be hungry. We managed to fall asleep last night without eating our dinner.”
My memories of the post-sauna parts of last night are hazy. A quick run through the snow, neither of our legs working well enough to actually run. A shower that relied more on tiled walls than legs to hold us up. Then… nothing.
I manage to work a hand out of the covers and pat my head, verifying that I indeed went to sleep with wet curls. Which means I’m about halfway to dreadlocks this morning. I open my eyes and lever myself up on my elbows, two acts only made possible by the imminent promise of bacon.
I’m not disappointed. There’s a plate in front of me with muffin-sized quiches laden with bacon and complete with flaky crusts and hints of the green stuff Callum apparently feels obliged to add to all his comfort foods. I pick one up with my fingers. If he’s a man who objects to crumbs in his bed, he’s about to get very cranky.
He rolls onto his belly beside me and companionably picks up a quiche of his own. “I did bring forks, but this looks far easier.”
“Faster.” I manage to get the word out around melt-in-my-mouth-good pastry and egg studded with every kind of delight. Bacon, but also some kind of ridiculously sweet onion, and something else with a bit of fire. I take a much bigger second bite.
He reaches for a wine glass on the side table, filled nearly to the brim with orange juice, and holds it for me to take a sip. He takes one of his own and then ferries it back to the side table, like eating in bed with a ravenous bear is something he does all the time.
I can’t believe how hungry I am.
I make it halfway through a second quiche before I slow down a little. I try to savor really good food, and this absolutely qualifies. I lean into his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He smiles and kisses my cheek. “I was hungry too.”
Clearly. He’s almost keeping up with me on quiche consumption. I chew contemplatively and give him a more thorough once-over. His hair isn’t as mangled as mine, but the elegant Callum Burke definitely looks rumpled this morning. Which means he spent whatever time he was out of bed heating up my breakfast instead of making himself pretty.
A man with his priorities straight.
I lean in and try the cheek-kissing thing he’s so fond of. His is covered in morning scruff, which starts to wake up other kinds of hunger. I shake my head as a couple of interested flames dance in my low belly. There needs to be a lot more breakfast in me before I worry about any other appetites.
Callum lays a companionable hand on my bare ass under the covers and squeezes. “Like that, is it?”
I grunt and reach for one of the cute fruit cups that were hiding behind the quiche. “It shouldn’t be. You nearly broke me last night.”
He shoots me an amused look and steals a strawberry from my fruit cup, licking his fingers with gusto. A man who isn’t at all afraid to get messy, which is only one of the many things I learned last night and should probably take a look at in the clear light of day.
The next strawberry he takes is for me. I lick his fingers too, which stirs up all kinds of things it shouldn’t.
He grins and rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of his hard cock. I squirm off and settle primly back on the bed. “I’m not done with my breakfast.”
He rolls again so he’s half on top of me instead, and nibbles on my ear. I hear the condom packet, just in case the nibbles aren’t a clear statement of intent. “In that case, I’ll find ways to amuse myself that don’t disturb your eating.”
Even the ear nibbles are doing that. I’m so tuned to him this morning. Wanting more of whatever magic happened last night.
His hand slides between my legs.
I pop a blueberry into my mouth. “After this, I need a nap.” I imagine we’re well and thoroughly snowed in, and morning naps are my favorite kind. I spread my legs a little so he has better access to what he’s just discovered. “I was having a very good dream when you woke me up. I want to find out how it ends.”
He lifts himself over my splayed leg, and in one slow, delicious thrust, lands balls deep inside me.
I drop my forehead to the bed and groan.
He rocks gently. “Sore?”
Probably, but in the best possible ways. I try to rock against him, but that’s a fairly pointless exercise with the full weight of a sexy Irish warrior holding me down. I offer a blueberry over my shoulder instead. Clearly one of us has to stay focused on getting us fed.
He gathers the blueberry with a tongue that offers all kinds of suggestions on what it might do when it finally ends up where his cock is. He pulls almost completely out and slides back in—and then he’s all the way out and rolling me over, neatly rescuing the fruit cup before it spills all over the bed. My legs spread instinctively as he lands between them.
His eyes darken as he slides back in. “There. I’ve a mind to watch your face as you come this morning.”
The words are sexy and delicious and so is the man they come from, but it isn’t that I’m caught by. It’s the ease, in him and in me and in the whole feel of this morning I’ve woken up to.
Sometimes the drawing on my wall in the morning is hard to look at.
This one, as big and as bold and as far reaching as it is—isn’t at all.