Chapter 6
Summer
You’re fucking perfect, Summer.
It’s the last thing I thought about as we drifted off to sleep and the first thing I remember when Waylon unceremoniously jumps on my head to alert me that I’m late for breakfast.
I know it’s just stupid shit guys say after good sex but I can’t help but revel in it. No one has ever said anything quite like that, and I loved hearing it. My body warms just thinking about it and I reach for Waylon, who purrs.
“Shh,” I whisper. “We were up late.”
“It’s okay,” Tate murmurs from beside me. “I’m awake.”
“It’s not even one o’clock yet, it was after seven before we got to sleep.”
“I’m good.” He rolls over and reaches out to put his hand on my hip. “How’d you sleep, despite not sleeping long enough?”
“Very well,” I say, grinning. “An orgasm or three will do that to a girl.”
“I’m happy to oblige. And your bed is indeed very comfortable. I appreciate it more than you know.”
“I appreciate the orgasms more than you know.”
We grin at each other and he leans over, brushing his lips across mine. “I don’t know what you have to do today beyond grocery shopping and baking pies, but how about I take us out to breakfast and then we come back here and I can provide a few more of those orgasms before you start to bake?”
“You don’t have anywhere to be?” I ask curiously.
I figured he would want to meet up with his band today.
“I’m going to see what’s going on but we don’t have to be in Montreal until Tuesday, and it’s kind of nice to not be on the run for a day or two. I love my life—I do—but a little down time is nice too.” He pauses. “Unless you’d rather I left?”
“Oh. No, not at all. I just assumed…” I break off and start to get up, but his fingers tighten around my hip.
“I have to leave by Tuesday,” he says quietly. “But I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something. The guys are probably still asleep, and if there was any news, they would have reached out.”
I glance around. “Except you left your phone downstairs.”
“Shit.” He grimaces. “Well, let me go see if anyone is awake yet.”
He gets up in all his glorious nakedness and my heart beats a little faster as I watch him pad into the bathroom. He comes out a minute later with a towel wrapped around his waist and shakes his head.
“My clothes are still damp. Do you have a dryer?”
“I do,” I say, getting up. “Give me all your stuff and I’ll wash it for you.”
“I can’t go out to eat naked,” he says with a sly grin. “Although maybe food isn’t on your mind right now.”
I flush.
Because I’m definitely more interested in his body than grocery shopping or even breakfast.
“Well, you can’t run around half-naked and not expect a girl to get excited?” I protest, grabbing his clothes off the floor, along with my own. “And don’t you dare get frisky until I put these in the washer.”
I dance out of his reach and his laughter follows me down the hall.
When was the last time I had a guy over? At least a couple of years. I don’t bring guys home. It’s just not my thing. I like my privacy, and up until Mom went into the nursing home, I had to take her comfort into consideration too.
Not that there’s been anyone interesting in my life since college.
