Ambrose groaned.
“Damn, you want to, don’t you?”
“Yes. I could watch that all day.”
“Have you ever watched gay porn?”
“Not much, except when my brother insisted I needed to see something or I walked in on Lance and some guy he was with, but that was more likely to horrify me than turn me on.”
“Then how—”
Ambrose held up a hand. “I can’t explain it, and I don’t want to. There’s no point in even trying if…”
“If what?”
“Do you…” He squeezed his eyes shut, looking like he was in pain. “Was this a one-time thing for you? Does this end here?”
I shook my head. “I told you I’m no good at one-night stands. I’m in this now until you’re… not.”
I knew he didn’t want long-term, but I hoped he would at least agree to let this continue until Carlotti and his minions were eliminated. After that, I would have to figure out how to live with a broken heart.
I reached for the covers, straightened them out, then patted the spot beside me. “Let’s go to bed.”
Ambrose just stared at me.
“I don’t… I’ve never…”
“Had a man in your bed?”
“Or a woman. Not here and not for the whole night anywhere.”
“Do you want me to go sleep on the couch?” I prayed he wouldn’t say yes. I wanted to sleep with my body wrapped around his.
“No.” He took a slow breath and climbed back on the bed. “For once, I don’t want to be alone.”
The pain in his eyes was echoed in my chest. When this was over, it was going to hurt like hell.
I curled around Ambrose and pulled him against me. He remained stiff at first, but slowly, he relaxed into me, and he fell asleep long before I did.
I heard the sound of pans clattering and smelled coffee, but when I managed to open my eyes, it was still dark outside. What the fuck was going on?
I tensed. Had someone broken in without Ambrose hearing them? No, he heard everything. Also, burglars didn’t usually make coffee in their victims’ houses.
I reached my arm out. Ambrose’s side of the bed was still warm. He must have just gotten up, but what fucking time was it?
I forced myself out of bed and felt around for my pants. When I extracted my phone and the screen came to life, nearly blinding me, it said 5:05. What the fuck was he doing up?
I considered getting dressed, but if he was going to wake me at this hour, then he could deal with me naked and still sticky with his cum.
Did he even have a shower? I hoped so. No way could I ride all the way home like this. I opened the bedroom door and saw him making scrambled eggs on the hot plate.
“Good morning,” he called without looking around. I was sure he’d heard me the moment I’d gotten out of bed.
“Why are you up at five?”
“You wore me out. I rarely sleep this late.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Years of practice, and I like the bayou in the morning. As soon as we eat, we’ll go feed Gerard.”
“Who’s Gerard?”
When Ambrose turned to look at me, he sucked in his breath and the spatula clattered to the counter.
“Good morning.”
“You’re… Fuck, you’re naked.”
“That’s what happens when I’m woken up before dawn. I don’t have the coordination to get dressed.”
He set the pan on a potholder and turned off the hot plate. “Come here.”
Ambrose was wearing cut off sweatpants and a tank top that clung to him. He looked almost as good as he would have naked. I couldn’t resist letting him pull me in, even though I knew that the more times he kissed me or touched me, the further I would fall.
He pressed his face into the crook of my neck and breathed deeply. “You smell like sex.”
“I know. Please tell me you have a shower.”
“I like you like this. I like knowing my cum is still on you. It’s… hot.”
“Yeah?”
He kissed me instead of answering, and within seconds, I wanted to drag him back to bed, but he pulled away. “Breakfast first. We need to eat.”
My stomach growled, confirming what he said, but I still wondered what it would take to get him to forget eating and let me show him how much he would enjoy me fucking his ass. Ultimately, my brain won out over my dick. I did not need to get anymore caught up in this fantasy.
Ambrose gestured toward the coffee pot. Two mugs sat beside it along with a stack of disposable cups. I raised a brow. “Those are for guests. I don’t like people to linger.” I pressed my lips together to hold in a laugh as I reached for one.
“No. Use a mug.”
Warmth flooded my chest. Something so simple shouldn’t thrill me that much, but I knew Ambrose accepting someone in his space was a big deal.