I look into his eyes. It’s way past midnight, but nobody’s going to care if I don’t make it back. They’ll just assume I started my birthday celebration early. “Okay.” I snuggle close. As my eyelids grow heavier, I murmur, “I’m glad it was you.”
Chapter Six
Dominic
When I open my eyes in the morning, Liza’s still deep in sleep. I gently push away some strands of hair that have fallen over her lovely face. She looks so peaceful, her relaxed mouth closed, the slanting morning sunlight on her eyelashes forming shadows in the shape of crescent moons on her cheeks. She breathes so softly, it seems like she’s holding her breath.
She was totally sexual every time we woke up during the night and reached for each other. I didn’t want to push into her again since it was her first time, so she suggested we try “other things.”
When I asked her where she learned all those other things, she primly said, “Just because I was a virgin until tonight doesn’t mean I’m ignorant. I’ve seen porn.”
A corner of my lips lifts at the memory. As much as I hate to leave, I climb out of bed and get dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. I need to feed her, and I only have a couple of eggs, ketchup, mustard and mayo in the fridge. She deserves more than that.
The grocery run doesn’t take long. I bring home two dozen eggs, cheese, berries, bacon, whipped cream cheese and assorted bagels and croissants. Fancier than what I normally eat, but Liza’s worth the splurge.
When I get home, Liza’s up. Her hair’s damp, and her face is scrubbed clean from a recent shower. Instead of the clothes from the night before, she’s put on one of my shirts. It ha
ngs like a dress, and I like the way it looks on her way too much.
Mine.
She said she wants to call me that, and I want to reciprocate. It isn’t like me to be so possessive, but Liza’s showing me maybe I’ve been wrong about myself in more ways than one.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she says, gesturing at the shirt.
“Nope.”
“I put my dirty stuff in there.”
So that explains the glossy Gap bag on the counter.
“What did you get?” she says, pouring two glasses of OJ and eyeing the brown paper bag I’m holding.
“Some breakfast.” I rattle off what’s inside.
At the mention of bagel and cream cheese, her eyes sparkle. “Whipped?”
“Yup.”
“You’re my hero.” She takes a big sip of her juice.
I have some with her. “Need any aspirin or anything?”
“For what?”
“Post-coital soreness? A hangover?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I feel fine.” Her grin widens. “Better than fine.”
After placing a kiss on her forehead—if I kiss her lips, we’ll never get to breakfast—I pull out a pan to fry the bacon, but she puts a hand on my forearm. “I’m not in the mood for it.”
“Not in the mood for bacon?” I raise both of my eyebrows. Any other girl, I might’ve thought diet, but not Liza. Girls on diets don’t drink the way she did. “What are you? An alien?”
She chuckles. “Is this going to be a problem?” She swings her hand back and forth between us.
I frown in feigned consideration. “I don’t know… Bacon rejection is pretty serious. You aren’t the woman I thought you were.”
Something crosses her eyes, but then she looks away. “You’re welcome to my bacon,” she says. “I just want a bagel.”