I shrug. “I think it’s pretty common for moms to fall behind on their self-care. Especially working moms. There’s just not enough time in the day, especially if you want any semblance of sleep. I’ll take that extra hour in the morning to get more rest than to get all fancy and make breakfast any day.”
“You’d be surprised how much better you’d feel if you got up and had that hour to yourself to maybe wake up with a nice shower, eat a good breakfast, get ready to face the day. Let me guess. You roll out of bed at the very last minute and immediately start taking care of the kids. Get them up and ready for school, fix them breakfast—go, go, go as soon as your eyes open,” he says gently, and I smile.
“I don’t know if I feel attacked or seen,” I joke.
He nods. “In the military, the first thing we did when we got up was make our bed. It’s called setting your intentions for the day. There was this speech Retired Navy Seal Admiral McCraven gave, where he said if you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task, and another, and another. And by the end of the day, that one task completed will have turned into many. He said that one small thing helps to reinforce the importance of life’s finer details, so if you can’t do the little things right, you’ll never be able to do the big things right. And if you happen to have a bad day, you will at least come home to a bed that’s made, that you yourself made.”
I’ve listened closely while he speaks, continuing to eat my dinner, completely fascinated by what he’s telling me. “I guess that makes sense. I bet in the beginning it’s hard as hell to get into the routine of doing it though. Have to have the self-motivation to get up early when you glance at your alarm clock and see you could technically get more sleep.”
“It is. I didn’t really have a choice. It started on day one of boot camp, and it was either do it or get punished with physical training. But after doing it for so long, I literally can’t sleep in an unmade bed. It’s uncomfortable as fuck.” He chuckles.
“So you’ve kept up with it all this time? If I were to go into your bedroom right now, your bed would be made?” The moment the words are out of my mouth, my face flushes and I bite my lip. I can’t seem to stop saying things with double entendres in front of this man to save my life.
His eyes flash with heat, and he gives me a wicked grin. “If I had it my way, it wouldn’t be for long,” he growls, and the sound shoots straight to my pussy, instantly making me wet.
I clear my throat and look down into my bowl, scraping together the last spoonful of the chicken and dumplings before taking the bite. As I swallow, I scoot the bowl across the island, unable to meet his hot gaze I still feel on my face.
He sets my bowl in the sink and comes around the island, and before I even know what’s happening, I’m in the same position I was last week at the bar, only this time I’m on top of his kitchen island… inside Winston’s home. His large, hot hands grip my knees, spreading them apart to step up between them, and then his fingers thread up into the back of my hair.
“I believe this was where we left off the first time I got to taste you,” he growls, and then his lips are on mine, his tongue following to press between them as it twirls inside my mouth. My breath catches when his other hand circles my waist, and then his palm is against my tailbone, pulling me flush with his front. The heat of his stomach presses to my core, and it’s like a blaze ignites, spreading down my legs and up, until my mind explodes in pleasure.
This. This is what I’ve been anxiously awaiting all day. Hoping it would happen but not knowing just how to manifest it into reality. But Winston had obviously been wanting the same thing and took the lead, and now here we are, no more waiting, no more hoping. This is my reality—kissing this amazing, intelligent, talented, caring, and obscenely sexy man I’ve had a crush on since the moment I laid eyes on him all those months ago.
I’ve worked with this man nearly every day, his very presence a balm on my soul. I’ve adored him from a distance, laughing at his jokes, listening to his stories, learning random things I’d never come across in the years I’ve spent as a stay-at-home mom. I’ve thought about him in the quiet moments right before bed, and anticipated each shift I get to spend with him, seeing him throughout the night as I pick up orders between making drinks.