“No, it isn’t. And we can face the music when it starts, not at this time of night. I’ve still got some noises of my own to make anyhow,” he says, shifting against me, the tone of his voice unmistakable.
“Again?” I ask, my body buzzing at the sensation of his hot hard length pressing against me.
“You too tired?” he asks, and I shake my head so quickly it feels like it could snap.
“That’s not what I meant,” I say greedily, taking the upper hand and rolling him onto his back, straddling Slade’s muscled torso, his heart pulsing in time with the throbbing of his arousal.
“We’ve got all night,” he says with a grin.
“And every night after that,” I remind him, leaning over and savoring the taste of my man against my mouth again.
Glad we talked like we have, but gladder that he’s a man of action too.
Not just words.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Slade
I don’t think I’ve slept so soundly in my whole life.
And even though it’s not our real bed, it kinda is. Even if it’s just for the night at the hotel.
I wake later than usual, but early enough to spend a couple of hours just holding Abby.
Watching my woman sleep. Tracing a finger absently over her body in places I only dreamed I could touch when I first saw her again as a woman.
Trying to picture what ink I’d put where.
If I was gonna ink her that is.
Just a habit, I guess.
Before she even opens her eyes, before she even mews a little or stretches, Abby asks how long I’ve been watching her sleep.
“Not long enough,” I confess, kissing her awake and reminding her I love her, that I could watch her sleep all night and all the next day, waking her only to show her just how much I love her.
Taking a long breath in, and gently resting her hands on both my arms, she lets me know that “maybe a different kind of loving for a while is in order… I’m a little saddle sore this morning.” She blushes.
I try to apologize but she laughs it off.
“I should be thanking you,” she says happily. “I’ve needed that for a loooong time, and you didn’t just hit the spot, Slade. You knocked it right outta the freaking park.”
I shouldn’t feel my head swell, but I can’t help but grin with pride.
Hearing my woman talk like that feels good.
It’s like Abby says, it’s what we both needed.
“So today is judgment day?” she asks, wincing a little as she moves to roll over.
I figure she means it's time for her to face her mother, and for me, it’ll mean Tasha and a studio full of needful clients and staff.
All angry with me because I took time off unexpectedly for the first time in what, twenty years?
“It can all wait another day,” I console her, rubbing her back, reveling in her smooth skin.
But Abby’s got a determined streak a mile wide and she looks more than up to the task of dealing with our challenges head on.
“I can talk to Tasha first if you want,” she murmurs, yawning and stretching before looking thoughtful.
“Thinking about breakfast, I hope?” I ask, not ready to deal with today until I’ve had some strong coffee, something to eat, and a long lie in with my woman.
The suite door chimes, startling Abby but I let her know I ordered ahead when we checked in.
“It’ll be left at the door, I gave strict instructions for us not to be disturbed,” I tell her, easing myself up, ready to get out of bed and go see. Feeling every one of my forty-two years when I do.
Abby either doesn’t notice or chooses to stay quiet, but my aching body tells me we weren’t just fooling around last night.
That was some serious horizontal action, by any standard.
I have a clear moment of recollection too, that silent knowing we both shared.
Certain that we’ve made a baby.
Even if it’s just wishful thinking, it helps put a spring in my step, but no way am I imagining things.
We definitely made a baby last night.
I wheel us in the breakfast trolley, grinning like an idiot, and I’m glad to see Abby looking the same. Both of us are eager to have something to eat apart from each other as I prop her pillows up behind her.
Starting without me, and still naked I take a step back and watch Abby just a little longer.
Smiling again when something from her toast falls onto her chest.
“Let me,” I growl, eagerly moving over her but she stops me.
“Look, it’s in the shape of a little bird,” she says. “How cute.”
I make a face, wondering if maybe I dislodged something apart from her virginity.
“I was thinking about a little bluebird for my tattoo,” she explains, thumbing the smear of butter and jam from her skin, offering it to me.