“Breakfast in bed?” I ask with a laugh.
“The best way to eat breakfast,” he confirms, kisses my nose and then he’s gone and I’m left standing, naked as the day I was born, in the middle of his old bathroom. I turn a circle, taking in the vintage—another word for old—fixtures and tile. This space was probably last renovated in the fifties. I can picture it in my head, the way it should be, with updated double sinks and countertops, subway tile in the shower.
Let’s face it, I’m itching to get my hands on Declan’s house. And it has nothing to do with the man himself, and everything to do with the magnificence of this space.
Okay, it has a little to do with Declan.
My shower is quick. I don’t have to wash my hair, thank God, because that’s a project. I examine my skin, and grin when I see fingerprint bruises on my thighs, where he held my legs up so he could feast on me for what felt like an hour.
The man has mad oral skills.
Then again, so do I, and he hasn’t given me much of an opportunity to show those off yet. That’s going on today’s agenda.
I smile as I finish drying off, hang the towel, and walk out of the bathroom to find Declan sitting on the bed, a tray before him, and the remote to the television in his hand.
“You look all soft and pink and… happy,” he says, tilting his head to the side as he takes me in.
“I’m all of those things,” I reply and climb on the bed to sit next to him, my back against the headboard. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Cereal,” he says proudly, gesturing to the Fruity Pebbles and a carafe of milk on the tray. “And coffee.”
“Yum.” Is it possible that we both love kids' cereal for breakfast? Because if so, I’m marrying him right now.
If I planned to get married, that is. Which I don’t.
“Are you just humoring me?” he asks as he engages Netflix on the TV.
“Nope, I love this stuff.” I pour myself a heaping bowl and settle back to munch. “Is this your favorite?”
“One of them.” He takes a bite and flips through movies. “My very favorite is Cap’n Crunch.”
“That stuff will tear the roof of your mouth up.”
“And yet it’s so delicious, we eat it anyway.”
I nod. “Oh! That one!”
“It’s a chick flick,” he says, moaning in agony. “Are you going to make me watch it? What about Pulp Fiction?”
“Never seen it,” I reply. “I want the romance.”
He blinks, sizing me up. “If you watch Pulp Fiction, I’ll watch your girlie movie.”
“Deal. Mine first.” I pour more cereal and settle in next to Declan as the opening credits begin. “This is nice.”
“Cereal and Netflix?”
“Yeah.”
He smiles and nods, kisses my forehead and opens his mouth, waiting for a bite of mine. I spoon some into his mouth. “Yours is better than mine.”
“It’s the same as yours.”
“Better,” he says with a shake of his head.
***
“Are you sure about this?” I ask him the next afternoon as we drive out of the city toward the Bayou. Declan decided this morning that I was going with him to have dinner with the family. I’ve discovered that once Declan gets his mind set on something, talking him out of it is futile.
I admit, I’m curious to meet his family. I mean, it’s not really that big of a deal. There will probably be a few other people there, and I can hold a conversation with just about anyone.
“I’m sure,” he replies lazily and lifts my hand to his lips. “They’re not scary.”
“I’m not scared,” I reply. Much. “It’s just a bit early to introduce me to your family, don’t you think?”
He slides his gaze over to mine, cocks a brow, then returns his attention to traffic. “What do you think?”
“I guess you wouldn’t have invited me if you didn’t think it was a good idea.”