“Says you.”
“Yup, says me. And look at the bright side.”
When she looked at him through her fingers, he was grinning down at her. The shadow of growth covering his face, combined with his naturally swarthy skin and white teeth, gave him the look of a pirate. “What bright side?”
“I’m getting a home-cooked breakfast out of the deal.”
She punched his arm and rolled out of reach.
*
“MUFFIN me,” Reagan demanded as she walked into the training room that morning. At Marianne’s narrowed gaze, she sighed and retreated back a few steps to kick off her heels and slip her feet into the fuzzy blue slippers by the door. “I need the energy. I had quite the rude awakening this morning.”
“Is that what Greg calls his penis? The Rude Awakening?” Marianne snickered when Reagan rolled her eyes. “Come on, it was funny. But shush, we’re not talking about your Rude Awakening. Kara has a muffin-worthy story.”
“Not just muffins. Chocolate muffins,” Reagan said, inspecting the baked good she’d stolen from the basket on Marianne’s desk as she sat on the second table. Unlike Kara, who was stretching—oh God, felt so good—Reagan sat primly in her sharp pencil skirt and tailored shirt. The effect of a high-powered businesswoman was ruined only by the blue slippers, which she wore under silent protest, but in accordance with the training room rules set by Marianne. “You have a chocolate muffin story. Do tell.”
“I was just waiting on you to stop primping and get your fabulously dressed ass in here.” Kara took a breath, then stopped. “Nobody is out there, right?”
“One Marine is. It’s weird though,” Reagan said thoughtfully. “He’s just sort of sitting in the middle of the gym, reading a book. Nobody else is here yet because we’re the only two crazy enough to get here this early. Now spill.”
“He can’t hear us?” Reagan and Marianne both shook their heads. “Okay then. Graham came over last night for dinner, just the three of us.”
“Aww,” Reagan interrupted. “That’s so cute.” When Marianne sent her an evil glare, she shrugged. “What? It is.”
“He’s great with Zach. He really is. And then he forced me to go off and do something for myself instead of cleaning the kitchen. He made Zach help, but not in a super condescending sort of way. Total hero worship. He’s great with him.” Just thinking of the private conversation she’d eavesdropped on in Zach’s room made her warm.
Marianne sighed and covered her heart with her hand. “He’s so hot, and good with kids, and seriously has a body to die for. On top of that, he does dishes? I can see red flags everywhere.”
“Shut up. So after dishes and a few rounds of video games with Zach, he gets Zach in bed—”
“Hold on. He tucked the kid into bed, too? Jesus, what does this guy have to do, cure cancer? Marry him!” Reagan demanded.
“Shut up,” Marianne and Kara said together. “Let her finish,” Marianne added.
Reagan shot her the finger, but waved for Kara to continue.
“So we’re on the couch, and it sort of comes out how I could use the help with Henry and the child support. No hesitation, he offers to help. Not that he can represent me, but just with research and stuff. To save me some money.”
“Perfect,” Marianne said.
“I’ll take him if you don’t want him,” Reagan added.
“You have a boyfriend, Greedy McGreederson.”
Reagan shot Marianne the finger again. “Continue.”
“So in my gratitude, I sort of started making out with him. Which led to . . . stuff.”
“She’s been through childbirth, but can’t say the word ‘sex.’ Sex. They had sex.” Marianne spun in her chair. “Hot mama alert!”
“No, not really.”
That caused Marianne to grab ahold of the desk to stop the spin midflight. “What? You’ve got that man on your couch and you didn’t have sex?”
“I would have! He didn’t want to. Or something. He gave me the most intense orgasm of my life—even including the ones he gave me on Sunday—”
“Show-off,” her best friend grumbled.
“We’re going to have to interrupt this program here and get some details. Come on. Most intense orgasm . . . how? Something. Anything.”
“He . . .” She felt the tips of her ears burning, and she double-checked the door leading to the training room. Empty. “He went down on me.”
Both friends watched her expectantly.
“And he wouldn’t let me make a noise.”
Reagan cocked her head to the side.
She sighed. “So all that normal tension-burning stuff, the moans and the groans and the sighs, it had nowhere to go. Everything felt three times as intense because it was all bottled up beneath my skin waiting to burst out. When the orgasm actually hit, and I still couldn’t make a sound . . .” She sighed and shivered a little. “I can’t really explain it except to say . . . wow. That’s the best I can do. Wow.”
“That,” Marianne said after a full ten seconds of silence, “I might have to try.”