I mentally slapped myself with the surety that I’d upgrade it to physically later when I was more fully awake and upright.
This wasn’t supposed to have happened. I told Marshall that it wouldn’t happen.
And yet it did… and I wasn’t as upset about it as I probably should have been. Embarrassed, sure. But not upset.
“There it is,” Rose murmured happily. “I was wondering how long it would take you to realize.”
“Oh God,” I groaned quietly. “Rose—”
“Hush,” she said, pressing her finger against my lips. “He’s still asleep.”
“Yeah, well, to be fair, so was I until you started poking me with your birdlike talons,” I responded, mumbling around her finger. I wasn’t sure how coherent I was being, but I was sure she’d intuit my meaning through my disgruntled tone. “Wait. How the hell did you get in here?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “I thought I locked the door last night.”
She shrugged and tapped her finger against my lips before she withdrew it and settled it under her chin while she continued to grin maniacally at me. Oh look, now she was waggling her eyebrows. This morning was getting better and better with each passing minute.
“I was wondering if you would mind if I made pancakes for breakfast for all of us this morning?”
I raised an eyebrow at her. Pancakes were usually a reward for when either of us had achieved something. Usually, they were made after her school results came through, but it was summer break. What were we celebrating?
As soon as I asked myself the question, I knew the answer, and I mentally smacked myself again, even as I felt my cheeks flush in embarrassment.
Of course, she wanted to celebrate me and Marshall waking up in the same bed.
Had I really become so sad and pathetic that my own daughter needed to celebrate me getting laid by cooking us all pancakes?
How was this my life?
And how do I get it to continue?
Gifting her a small grin, I nodded. “Why not?” I mean, ithadbeen a while. Maybe Ishouldcelebrate it, even if it made me want a sink hole to open beneath me and swallow me down into the pits of being-a-terrible-parent hell.
She raised her arms into a V as she celebrated with a silentwoo!Her hands danced above her head like she was at a rave party instead of in our—no,my—bedroom early on a Wednesday morning.
I slapped my palm over my mouth to stop from berating her, remaining content with a glare in her general direction instead.
And promptly froze again when I felt Marshall’s hard cock grind slowly against me as his grip around my waist tightened.
Squeaking in a very unmanly fashion, I waved her out. “We’ll be out soon,” I said quietly.
Casting her eyes behind me, Rose dropped her arms and laughed. A tad too loudly if I was being honest. “Okay.”
Frowning at her, I raised my index finger to my lips toshhher, but she ignored me entirely. “Good morning, Patriarchal Marshall,” she said, no longer in the low tone she’d been using up until now. “Get up! We’re having pancakes!”
And with that, she turned around and swanned out of our—my—bedroom, closing the door behind her.
“Did she just call mePatriarchal Marshall?”
Slowly, I closed my eyes and prayed to any god that was listening to grant me strength. “Yeah.”
Thankfully, he just chuckled. “At least she didn’t call meCarnal Marshall.” He snuggled into my neck and gently pressed his lips softly to my skin. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I squeezed his arm before rolling over to face him. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Mm,” he hummed, and then with his eyes still half closed, he leaned in and swept his lips against mine, his tongue flicking out briefly to lap at me. Even though I tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled back. “Wait.”
Instantly I froze, watching him carefully to make sure I hadn’t done something wrong. “What?”
His eyes had widened. “It suddenly registered what Rose called me.”
