He kisses my earlobe, then grazes it between his teeth. “You know what I need to hear.”
“Let’s shower.”
***
After the shower, we return to the living room and snuggle on the couch. I lean in to his touch like a kitten looking to be spoiled, then relax completely… until my phone beeps with an incoming e-mail from my lawyer.
“Sorry,” I murmur to Eric. “I have to read this.”
I toss my phone away after reading it. “Can’t postpone this much longer. I’ll have to face Terence in a mediation meeting.”
Eric takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “You know my opinion about this. Don’t run away. Fight him with his own weapons.”
“Sounds more tempting with every passing day,” I admit.
“If you need me, I’m here. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, such as punching him again.” The nonchalance in his tone makes me chuckle.
“Why would I need that?”
“It would make you feel better.” Eric kisses my temple, pulling me in his arms again.
“I’ll handle this,” I assure him. “Let’s forget about it.”
“Okay, but if you need help or to talk about it, I’m here. I want you to know that.”
“I appreciate it.”
“I love your hair,” he says, twirling a lock of blonde mane between his fingers. “Especially after you wash it.”
I eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t put any hair product in. It looks wild.”
He shrugs. “It has its own personality, like you.” Eric leans over me, dragging the back of his fingers down my cheeks. Uh-oh. I know that look in his eyes—desire. Normally, I’d jump at the opportunity to snatch some more sexy time with my man. But right now, I have a very important appointment… with my TV, which is why I insisted we come to the living room instead of the bedroom after our shower.
“What’s wrong?” He pulls back, watching me with concern.
“My show is starting in three minutes,” I say quietly.
“Your… Huh?”
“TV show.” I wiggle out from under a stunned Eric, grabbing the remote and starting the TV. “It’s on every Saturday.” The intro music is already on.
Eric sits up, grumbling. “A crime show?”
“Yep,” I reply proudly, as the main detective appears. He’s a hottie.
“You read romance novels but watch crime shows?” Eric asks, mystified, as if the two things are mutually exclusive.
“Yep. I have multiple personalities. They all drool at the sight of him,” I explain seriously, pointing at the hottie on the screen.
“Can’t you record it?”
“No can do. The Internet will be full of spoilers if I wait.”
“But if you record it, you can skip all the commercial breaks,” he insists.
“I love the commercial breaks. I get to fret and wonder what will happen next. Watching it live is part of the experience. It’s like a soccer game. Much better live, right?”
He nods at this, and I congratulate myself on drawing this comparison.