Breakfast in Bed

chapter 11


BECCA SHRUGGED HER JACKET ON AND WALKED OUT OF the restaurant into the stark cold and away from her world. Well, she thought, that was a bit dramatic, but no less true. She never fit into that world, but still, it was what she knew, what she spent most of her life rebelling against, and today, what she'd finally put behind her.
Rich had held the door for her with one arm and wrapped his other around her as she walked through. She tilted her head until it rested against his and took a deep breath, soaking in the comfort he offered.
When they reached his car, instead of opening the door, he pinned her against it and kissed her. She was expecting a pity kiss, but when her eyes met his, she saw no pity there. She saw need, hunger, urgency, and something else she was unable to label. It whipped around them like a live wire, and as his mouth met hers, the shock of it stole her breath. The taste of Rich mixed with the bitterness of the beer he drank and the rage of emotion that bubbled within him was as sharp as his teeth against her lips and tongue as he ate her mouth.
Rich pulled away, and breathing heavily, he stepped back and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Jesus, I'm sorry."
Becca almost melted onto the pavement. If he didn't look as shaky as she felt, she'd have taken offense. Still, since she was unable to speak, all she could do was raise an eyebrow.
"It's that queen thing you do. It turns me on so much I can't control myself." He inched closer to her and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You were amazing in there. I would have preferred to make it so he spent the next six weeks eating through a straw, but I enjoyed watching you decimate him."
"Happy to entertain."
Rich did a double take. "You didn't let that a*shole upset you, did you?"
Becca took a shaky breath. "A*sholes, plural. And no, I didn't let them upset me. I don't know why I'm surprised they turned on me. I've seen it a hundred times before."
Rich looked like a cartoon character just before its head blew off. "I got the weird vibes, but I didn't know they—"
He turned as if to stomp back and take them all on. She caught his hand to stop him. "It's okay. They just saw most of the money they thought I had, half my trust and the entire estate, go to Mike. Since they don't have much in their lives except their trusts and their estates, they're suffering from 'there, but for the grace of God go I' syndrome. They're afraid it might be catching. After all, if it could happen to the ultra uptight and respectable Larsens, it could happen to any one of them." She looked into his very confused face.
"So that huge windfall that Mike was given—"
She shook her head. "He wasn't given anything. The trust and the estate are Mike's birthright."
"But still, if you hadn't found him, all of that would be yours."
Becca shrugged.
"And you still told your dad about him?"
When she looked into Rich's eyes, she expected to see the same disbelief and in more than a few of the people she'd once thought her friends, the same disgust. Instead she saw pride and what looked like admiration. She wasn't sure she was comfortable with that either.
"He's my brother. I wanted him in my life and in my father's life. I love him."
"You didn't know him."
"I didn't need to. I already lost one brother. I'd give the world to get Chip back. How could I ignore the one brother I still had?"
Rich pulled her to him. "Bec." He almost sounded hoarse. "You're doing that queen thing again. What's it gonna be? Are we going home, or are we going to the nearest trashy hotel so I can make love to you all night without having to be in pain for two hours beforehand?"
Becca pulled away from him and climbed in the car. "I choose door number three. Let's go to a nice place I know. It's a B&B with room service. That way we can have breakfast in bed, and it might actually be edible."
Rich closed the door and walked around the car, gingerly sat, and turned to face her. "Hey, I'm working on the breakfast in bed thing." He looked longingly out the side window. "But Bec, the trashy hotel is right across the parking lot."
She laid her hand on his fly, pressed against his erection, and squirmed in her seat. The way he sounded made her melt. Okay, it was way more than that. It was the way he looked at her and saw all of her, even the messy parts, and seemed to think they were okay. It was the way he was ready to do damage to anyone he thought would hurt her, but let her handle the situation on her own. And it was the way he wanted her. God help her, she wanted him too. Bad. "I guess you better drive fast then."
"God, you're killin' me here, Bec."
"There's a nice place just a couple miles down the road. I'll make it worth the wait."
Rich pulled up in front of the B&B and left the engine running. "You wait here, and I'll see if they have any rooms available."
Becca shrugged. "I don't mind coming in."
He kissed her quick and pulled away. "Yeah, but I'll have a really hard time keeping my hands off you. I'm hoping that little cottage over there is free."
"It's a carriage house."
"That's just a snooty way of saying garage. Frankly, I'd rather stay in a cottage than a garage any day, but I want to be as far away as possible from other people. I love making you scream."
"Okay, but Rich?"
"Yeah?"
She squirmed a little more. "Hurry."
His face split into a grin that shone in the dashboard light just before he got out and jogged up the front steps of the main house.
Becca tried to remember what underwear she had on. She peeked and was glad she wasn't wearing an ugly sports bra because when she got dressed that morning she was so mad, the last thing she thought about was sleeping with Rich Ronaldi. Killing him, sure. Having wild monkey sex, not so much. Making love to him, never.
So much had changed, but she wasn't sure what caused it. Maybe the forced confinement made her open her eyes to what was going on between them. He had a way of holding a mirror up to her and not only making her look at herself, but telling her what he saw in that mirror too. She let out a laugh. The first time she met him she thought he was no deeper than a puddle. She never thought she was one to jump to conclusions about people, but she sure did with Rich, and that fact embarrassed the hell out of her. He must have thought she was just like Kendal, Tristan, and the rest of the crowd they'd just walked out on.
She was wrong to tolerate her friends' behavior over the years, but she never acted like them. Today her friends crossed the line. It was one thing when they started with the pity comments about her losing the estate. She couldn't really care less about that or her diminished net worth—not that they or anyone but the IRS knew what it was. When they asked how it felt to go slumming and talked about Rich the way they'd always talked about her mother's men, that was when she'd lost her temper.
Rich opened the door, got in, and tossed a key in her lap. "Wanna tell me what that look is for? Please say you just got off the phone with your worst enemy because I don't think I could handle it if I did anything to piss you off."
"No, I'm not mad at you. I was just thinking."
He slid his hand up her back, wrapped it around her neck, and pulled her toward him for a long, deep kiss. "Bec, I want to hear all about what you were thinking later. But right now, I want to take all your clothes off using nothing but my teeth, starting with that cute little top you're wearing."
"Oh." She swallowed hard. Thank God they were only fifty feet from the carriage house.
Rich pulled up in front of the carriage house and killed the engine as Becca flew from the car and ran for the front porch, key in hand. He was right behind her. By the time she had the door unlocked, her pants were unbuttoned, unzipped, and his hand was already firmly entrenched in her panties. Incapable of moving, she braced herself against the door jamb as his other hand slid beneath her shirt and unhooked the front clasp of her bra to tease her breast. His teeth scraped her neck as he pressed the heel of his hand against her mound and slid two fingers deep inside her. Her breath froze in her lungs. His fingers, like heat-seeking missiles, came in contact with their target, and air mixed with a ragged moan ripped from her throat. Becca's short nails bit into the wood as she came apart in his arms.
Still shuddering in the wake of the most amazing orgasm she remembered, Rich licked the side of her neck, soothing the spot he'd raked his teeth over, and slid his hand from her pants, making sure she could stand on her own before nudging her inside. "It's a damn good thing it's cold out, and everyone has their windows closed. Still, we better get inside before someone calls 911."
When she turned her head to look at him, he had both fingers in his mouth, sucking on them like a five-year-old with a grape popsicle. "God you taste sweet. Now hurry up, we only have an hour before they bring dinner over, and I want you as my appetizer."
Becca was still in a post-orgasmic stupor, or at least she hoped that's what caused the fact she had to repeat what he'd said in her mind once or twice before she made sense of it. "You ordered dinner?"
He grinned as she stumbled over her own feet. It didn't help that her pants were sliding down her legs, and her ass was suddenly cold without having Rich pressed against her.
"For us and Tripod. I called Henry and Wayne and asked them to feed him. He can be scary when he's hungry. As for our dinner, I told the owners we were going to check out the Jacuzzi tub."
Becca hiked up her pants and tried not to fall on her face. "Dinner and breakfast?"
"I know, it boggles the mind. But right now, I'm more interested in sating other hungers. I'm not done with you, babe. Not by a long shot."
God she hoped not.
Rich flicked on the light switch, illuminating the small cottage. He took Becca by the hand and led her to the steps. "The bedroom is on the second floor."
She caught glimpses of warm, creamy walls and antique furniture before being nudged up the stairs. The bedroom was painted a soft celery, with gleaming cherry furniture and a king-sized canopy bed.
Rich stepped in behind and pulled her into his arms. "Thanks, Bec."
She tilted her head back against his shoulder to see his face. "What for?"
He slid her jacket off her shoulders and tossed it on the chair. "For nixing the trashy hotel idea. I don't know what I was thinking."
She laughed, pulled her sweater over her head, and tossed it in the direction of her jacket. Her bra, still undone, hung from her shoulders. She let it drop to the floor while she spun around and threw her arms around his neck. "There, does this spark your memory?"
"I want to make love to you. No one makes love in a trashy hotel room."
His eyes locked on hers, all signs of humor vanished. He stared as if he could read her mind. She wondered if he could. It would help if he'd clue her into what he saw, because right now, all she knew was what she felt. There was the ever-present lust, a fierce protectiveness of him, fear for herself, and the terrifying feeling that she'd completely lost control of her life. She couldn't choreograph this dance. He led, and she seemed to have no choice but to follow.
"You're thinking too much. Don't think, just feel. We'll deal with the rest in time. Right now, I just need you."
Need. Need was dangerous. Love didn't scare her because she could control it. Becca loved her brothers, her parents—yes, even her mother, and she loved Annabelle. But loving someone was very different from needing someone. Loving meant she cared for them and shared only that part of herself she felt safe to share.
She'd avoided needing people at all costs. Her shrink said it was due to revolving nannies and the lack of stability she and Chip suffered since birth. Maybe he was right, or maybe she just saw how weak Chip seemed when he begged for everything he needed, from love and attention to money. Becca had vowed that once she became an adult, she'd never put herself in the position to need anything from anyone. She'd been extremely successful until Rich.
The thought that she might actually need him paralyzed her. He had a way of taking a part of her without her permission. It was as if he held a key she never knew existed to the lock on the side of herself that kept safe all she refused to share. But looking into Rich's eyes, she knew that had changed, and she didn't know how to get back to the safe place she'd been in just that morning.
His kiss was soft and undemanding. He didn't try to take. He gave. He breathed life into her, and she put herself in his hands, trusting him to cushion her fall. She landed gently between soft sheets and hard man. Their clothes disappeared along with her anxiety, and once she accepted that there was no safe way to go back, she gave into it and experienced freedom.
Rich had never felt such need to connect with another human being. He always considered himself a good lover, but now it seemed that everything he'd done before this moment had just been going through the motions. Becca was different, maybe because nothing came easy with her. But the way she looked at him made it all worthwhile. Somehow he'd succeeded in breaking through the wall she built to hold everyone at a safe distance.
He kissed his way down the column of her throat, trying to keep a tight grip on the thin thread of control. He'd been doing just fine until she wrapped her legs around his waist. His cock met warmth and wetness, and it was all he could do not to thrust deep inside her. "Don't move, baby. If you do…"
She did, and Rich found out what heaven felt like. He'd never not worn a condom. His mind screamed stop. His body screamed go, and hers was already gone, drawing him deeper into the intense wet heat. Christ, it was a damn good thing he didn't know what he was missing all these years. Still, he clenched his jaw and pulled out.
He managed to speak. "Condom."
"Pill."
"Thank you, God." He kissed her as he gave into a need so strong, so essential, any finesse he may have had evaporated with his first thrust. He took her mouth with the same need. Rich swallowed her moans and breathed the air she expelled. With each moan, each sigh, each kiss and touch, she gave him more of herself. When their eyes met, hers were so clear and open the intensity shocked him almost as much as the sense of responsibility he felt to live up to the trust she bestowed.
Becca raised her hips, arched her back, and screamed his name. The intense wet heat shocked him as every muscle in her body strained, and he lost what little control he'd held as he thrust again and again and again before he let go, and together they exploded.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying prostrate on top of Becca, crushing her. Long enough for the both of them to have their breathing somewhat under control. He needed that to make sure he could speak. "Bec, if you haven't had a relationship in two years, why are you on the pill?"
Becca opened her eye a crack. "There are a lot of reasons a woman goes on the pill other than pregnancy prevention, you know. It keeps my periods regular and light. It also helps with cramps, and lucky for you, PMS."
"I wasn't accusing you of anything, I was just wondering." She didn't look like she believed him, but she didn't look mad either. He gathered enough energy to kiss her. Right at that exact moment, a stomach growled, but he couldn't say whose. "One of us is hungry."
She ran her hand down the length of his spine. "Probably both of us since the last food we ate were those biscotti."
"Told you that was the breakfast of champions, and you didn't believe me." He pushed himself up onto his elbows and took a deep breath. "Dinner is going to be here any minute. I'll bring it up just as soon as they deliver it."
She yawned and snuggled closer. "I don't want to let you go."
He hissed out a breath as he pulled away, and she tightened her hold. "Babe, if you don't eat, you'll never be able to keep up with me." He kissed her quick and rolled onto his side.
She rolled toward him and rested her head on her hand. "Maybe it's you who won't be able to keep up with me."
Rich grabbed his pants off the floor, pulled them on, and had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the picture she made. "God you're beautiful."
She looked well-loved, and where some women might look disheveled and worn, Becca glowed. He wanted to jump back in bed and see who came out on top. Then his stomach growled, and hunger overtook lust. Becca sat and threw her legs over the side of the bed to join him when he stopped her. "I'll be back with food. You keep the bed warm."
"You don't have to. I'm capable of going down to eat."
"God you're stubborn. Can't you give a guy a chance to impress you? I went to a lot of trouble."
She raised her chin and one eyebrow. Damn, she probably spent a year in front of a mirror practicing that look. If it didn't make him so damn hot, it would piss him off. "Okay, not a lot of trouble, but I oughta get points for trying." When he heard the knock on the door, he turned his back on her and went to get the food.

Becca heard Rich clanking around downstairs and realized that no matter what he'd said, she was going to see what he was up to. She pulled on a plush robe she found hanging in the bathroom and followed the noise and cursing.
When she found him searching the cabinets in the kitchen, she stayed in the shadows admiring the way his back muscles flexed as he moved. She still couldn't get over how beautiful he was. "What are you looking for?"
He looked over his shoulder, grinned, and then scowled. "I thought I told you I'd bring the food up?" He continued his haphazard search.
She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. "Rich, if you think I'm going to follow orders, we've got a real problem. Now, tell me what you're looking for, and maybe I can help."
"Candles. I was trying to be romantic." His tone of voice was more pissed than romantic.
Since she was still behind him, she rolled her eyes. He was such a guy. "I'll bet they're in the dining area. I'll go look."
The table was set for two, linen tablecloth, fine china, and of course, candles. The fireplace was stacked, ready for a match, and when Becca turned to take in the rest of the room, out the bay window she saw it had begun to snow—the first snow of the season. "Rich, come here. I found something."
She heard Rich grumbling, but it stopped as soon as he stepped into the room. "I told them to put the food in the kitchen. The other guy must have set the table while I tipped the one setting out the food." He looked at the romantic table. "I guess this is a better idea than dinner in bed."
He came up beside her, held her close, and joined her in watching the snow. Another perfect moment in time.
Becca kissed his neck and nodded. "How about you start the fire and light the candles, and I bring in the food?" For once he didn't argue. He was just macho enough to think that fire starting was man's work, and she was woman enough to let him.
They ate at the table since the fillets required cutting. Of course the meat was so perfectly cooked and tender, it could have been cut with the side of a fork. Rich slid the last bite of his meat through the béarnaise sauce before finishing his asparagus and potato. Becca looked down at her remaining food. "Can you eat some more? I'm getting full."
Rich reached over and stabbed an asparagus stalk. She just took his empty plate and exchanged it for hers and watched him dig in. He cut a bite of the meat and held it on the fork and looked as if he was about to say something then changed his mind.
"What?"
Rich chewed and shrugged. "I was just wondering if you were all right."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, you know, it can't be easy living as an artist. I mean, there's no steady paycheck or benefits, and without those it must be hard qualifying for loans. You probably had to put up a huge down payment for your part of the brownstone."
She didn't say anything. She let out a silent scream inside her head. NOOOOOO!
He wasn't stopping. Her lungs constricted; she was unable to expel air. She inhaled just fine, but she couldn't exhale. Panic began clawing at the edges of her consciousness.
"…I was just thinking with the market the way it is, it's not a good time for anyone. Bec, I know you won't ask your parents for help, so I just thought… I've got a pretty hefty nest egg, if you need anything." He looked up from his food. "Now don't go getting pissed because I offered. Just know it's there if you need it."
All the air that had been trapped inside rushed out with a sob. She never before felt such a sense of relief, and there was no stopping the tears. She was so embarrassed that she wanted to crawl under the table.
Rich looked terrified. Obviously, he wasn't comfortable with women who couldn't control their emotions. Not that she was one of them, but at first, she thought she'd been wrong about him, and then when she realized what he was saying, it was so wonderfully sweet, the floodgates opened. All the stress she'd been holding seemed to have taken over, and well, she was a mess.
He got out of his chair and crouched down next to hers. "I'm sorry."
She tried to speak, but it was pretty much impossible.
"Okay, I know. You want to do it yourself. Forget I said anything. It's okay." He drew her out of her chair and brought her to the couch in front of the fire before pulling her into his lap. He didn't say much. He just held her until she could stop blubbering long enough to breathe.
"Almost done?"
She nodded, her wet face moving against his bare chest.
"You want to talk about this?"
She dragged a hitched breath in and straightened. "I don't need your money, but thanks."
"Baby, I don't want to pry into your finances."
"Then don't."
He lifted her off his lap and sat her down on the couch before he went to clear the table. Shit, she was a bitch. Here he was being so sweet, and she shut him out. It was a habit.
She followed him into the kitchen as he set the dishes in the sink. He looked as if he wanted to punch something. When he turned he stabbed her with a look. "I get it. Okay. I think you said enough."
He turned and left her staring after him. He came right back carrying more dishes. "I love you, Bec, but you sure don't make it easy on a man."
He loved her? Of course he said it while he was arguing with her, but he said it.
"…I know you think you can do it all by yourself, and believe me, I admire the hell out of you. But I'm a guy, and we're wired different. We're built to fix things, to take care of the women we love, to provide."
There he goes saying it again. She wondered if he even realized.
"We can't help it. So don't go holding the fact that I have a 'Y' chromosome against me. I understand your quirks. You gotta give a little too."
"I know. I'm not used to this. I'm sorry. I said the wrong thing."
Well, that seemed to take the wind out of his sails. "Oh, ah, okay then."
A different kind of tension filled the space his anger occupied. She searched for something to change the subject. A chocolate dessert fondue sat on the counter all ready to go. "Why don't we set all this up in front of the fireplace and have a picnic?"
"Okay."
His feelings were hurt, and he'd had his ego bruised. He grabbed the fondue pot and set it on the hearth while she followed with the tray of fruits and snacks. She knew he'd be even angrier if she told him how adorable he was. Men hate it when women think they're cute. She could just imagine what he looked like when he was a little boy getting into mischief.
He pulled her onto his lap and loosened the tie on her robe. His eyes sparkled as if he just had an amazingly naughty idea.
"Rich?"
She sucked in a lungful of air as warm chocolate dribbled onto her chest. He slid the back of the chocolate-coated spoon over her left breast and tossed it back into the pot. Oh God. Her head rolled back against his arm as he sucked her breast into his mouth and slid her off his lap onto the rug, licking, sucking, and nipping, and once he had her all cleaned off, he devoured her mouth in a chocolate-flavored kiss.
Becca couldn't wait for her turn. She tugged on the button of his jeans, and Rich didn't seem to mind her taking over. He let go of her long enough to scoot his pants down his legs and kick them away. He rolled back and looked shocked when she grabbed his cock with a chocolate-covered hand. She let the dribbled chocolate drip over the head of his dick, and then wrapped her hand around it and stroked the length of it, covering it with warm slippery chocolate.
Rich watched as her tongue slipped out to lick the bead of liquid that oozed over the chocolate. Chocolate and salt—it reminded her of a chocolate covered pretzel, which happened to be her next favorite thing to dip in chocolate. She slid her tongue around the head of his dick as Rich tightened the hold he had on her hair and cursed as she went down on him and gently rolled his balls in her chocolate covered hand. By the time she finished lapping up all the chocolate, he was begging, and she couldn't wait another second. She crawled above him, sucking in his tongue as she slid down the length of his cock. He let out a strangled cry, grabbed her hips, and all Becca could do was hold on while he went wild beneath her. She threw her head back and ground against him, sending herself over into orgasmic bliss, screaming his name.
Rich rolled them over and continued his onslaught, rolling one orgasm into another until she was hoarse from screaming. His body tensed, and with each thrust, he exploded within her, over and over, sending her into yet another orgasm as he filled her.
"Bec, baby, are you okay?"
Becca snuggled closer to his heat, and when she moved she groaned. Her eyes shot open when he moved too, and his dick jumped within her. "Okay, you win." Her voice was rough with sleepiness. "I can't keep up with you."
"It's not a competition, baby. Just relax, and let me love you." He kissed her softly, stealing her thoughts as he made slow, lazy love to her. She'd never done that, just loved someone because she wanted to be close, not striving for completion, just trying to make her lover feel good. It was nice: long, slow kisses, the warm fire crackling beside them. Before long she was sighing, and then she was wanting, and then demanding, and then, oh God, she was coming again and again.
She heard Rich's voice as if it was echoing from far away. "Come on, Bec. Don't fall asleep. There are two perfectly good beds upstairs, and I'll be damned if we aren't going to sleep in at least one of them."
"Hmm?" Becca pried her eyelids open. She had no idea how long she'd been sleeping. "Sorry."
He pulled her up beside him, wrapped her in the warm robe, and led her to bed.

Rich slid out from beneath Becca without waking her and tiptoed down the steps to call the main house and order breakfast.
First, Rich needed caffeine and searched the cabinets for instant coffee, though the only coffee in the pantry was the real stuff, and he had absolutely no idea what to do with that.
Rich called the main house and tucked the phone under his chin.
"Good morning. This is Melody. I hope you had a nice night Mr. Ronaldi. What can I do for you?"
"You wouldn't be able to talk me through making a pot of coffee, would you?"
"Certainly, but I'd be happy to run a pot over if you wish."
"No, thanks, I'd really like to know how to do it myself, if you don't mind. Then maybe, just to be safe, you could bring a pot over with breakfast."
Rich tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder and followed the detailed instructions. In less than a minute the coffee machine was making coffee machine noises, which he took as a good sign. It didn't hurt that it looked like coffee and smelled like coffee. He gathered cups he found in the cupboard and took Melody's suggestion and filled them with the instant hot water from the dispenser at the sink. She said it would take the chill off the cups. Rich was impressed because who thinks of shit like that?
Melody was probably used to clueless men, so she told him where to find the breakfast tray and coffee carafe, and said that a bowl of fresh fruit salad was in the refrigerator.
He leaned into the refrigerator and found the bowl. "There's yogurt there and some fresh mint. Just put a dollop on top of each serving and top it with a sprig of fresh mint. That should hold you over until breakfast arrives."
"Thanks, it looks great."
"When would you like us to serve breakfast?"
"Can you give us about an hour?"
"Certainly, Mr. Ronaldi."
Rich thanked her and figured fruit salad was a real improvement over a bag of biscotti. He found some green stuff that looked like weeds in the refrigerator. He sniffed it, hoping to hell it was mint. It smelled like chewing gum. Definitely mint. He dished out two bowls of fruit, plopped a heaping spoonful of yogurt on top, and stuck a few leaves on it. It looked pretty. After draining the hot water from the coffee cups, he set them next to the carafe of coffee and the fruit salad, and headed out. Spoons, shit. He turned back to grab a few spoons and napkins before retracing his steps.
When Rich walked in, Becca hadn't moved. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face; he'd really worn her out. Setting the tray on the bedside table, he poured the coffee before sitting beside Becca and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath. God, she always smelled so good. "Becca, wake up."
"Mmmm."
The sheet fell to her waist as she sat up, shot him a beautiful sleepy smile, raised her arms, and stretched. Rich held back a groan.
"I smell coffee."
He ignored his hard-on, threw his feet up on the bed, pulled her against his chest, handed her a coffee, and then picked up his own.
She took a sip and smiled. "God, Rich, if you made coffee like this, I'd be in serious danger of falling madly in love with you."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but believe me, you have nothing to worry about."
"Nope, I'm not worried in the least."
She cocked a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He took another sip of the rather amazing coffee—if he did say so himself—as he watched her mind whirl. She raised her chin—a sign she was getting her panties in a twist, not that she wore any, but it was his experience that women were more than capable of getting their panties in a twist even when said panties were hanging off a lampshade as hers were.
He grinned. "I think it means that I love you, and you're in serious danger of falling head over heels in love with me."
She looked shocked and confused, which he had to admit was way better than pissed.
"I made the coffee."