I began to dream.
And hope.
I imagined sleeping in his arms every night. Waking up to him every day. Making love to him, marrying him, having children with him.
And, even though I knew it was all a fantasy, when I fell asleep, it was with a smile on my face and hope in my heart.
21
Dillon
A knock on the door is what pulled me from a deep, dreamless sleep. Then I felt the warm body next to mine, felt the silky hair beneath my fingertips, and felt the lips kiss my chest, and I caught the scent that was distinctly Laurel.
“Morning,” I whispered, my voice gruff with sleep.
“Mmmm, morning,” came her reply.
That’s when the knocking registered and I realized someone was at the door.
“Breakfast,”
I said, remembering that when I called concierge about the wine last night, I’d also put in a breakfast order.
I untangled myself from Laurel, and the covers, and crossed to my still-open suitcase to pull on a pair basketball shorts.
“Coming,” I called out to the persistent knocker, then opened the door with a grin and said, “Sorry about that. You can just put it right over there.”
I looked over my shoulder as the server crossed the room to put the breakfast tray on the table, to find Laurel hiding in the bed with the blankets over her head. I bit back a chuckle as I turned back to the server and thanked him for dropping the tray and clearing the glasses from the night before.
I signed the check, leaving him a generous tip for his wait and hopefully his discretion, then closed the door behind him.
“All clear,” I told Laurel, smiling as she peeked over the top of the comforter.
She looked amazing.
Rumpled from sleep but grinning sheepishly, a sexy pink tinge to her cheeks, indicating she was embarrassed about being in bed naked with a stranger in the room. Or, maybe she was feeling unsure about being naked under those covers with me standing half-dressed and watching her.
Thinking that might be it, I asked, “Are you shy? ‘Cause I don’t mind getting naked if it’ll make you feel better.”
That said, I dropped my shorts and stepped out of them, then walked over to the bed and sat on her side.
“Good morning, Laurel,” I said again, leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips, before pulling back and asking, “Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” she admitted, but still didn’t make a move to get out of bed.
“Do you want one of my shirts?” I offered.
“Yes, please.”
Nodding, I dropped one more kiss on her lips, got up and picked my shorts up off of the floor. I rifled through my bag until I found my favorite green T-shirt and tossed it on the bed. Then, figuring Laurel needed some privacy, I went to the bathroom to take care of my morning business.
Once I came back out, once again in my shorts, I found Laurel pouring us coffee, wearing only my t-shirt.
In all honesty, her wearing my shirt and nothing else, was almost sexier than her being naked. I could see the outline of her breasts, her puckered nipples, and a hint of her bare cheeks peeking out from beneath the shirt.
It was sensual, yet taunting, and unbelievable hot.
I accepted the coffee gratefully and took a sip, then we both sat in the chairs and uncovered the food. The mingled smell of bacon, eggs, and buttery toast wafted out, causing Laurel’s stomach to grumble.