It's love in its most raw, infinite form.
* * *
"You aren't going to work today, little rebel," Zane growls early the next morning, stalking toward me across the bedroom floor. He's naked, red claw marks etched into his upper arms and shoulders.
"It's too early for you to be this bossy, honey bunny," I grumble. We barely slept last night. We were too busy making love and talking most of the night.
I shared a lot with him last night that I've never told anyone, memories from my childhood, things my father did. They weren't all bad. Before my mom died, there were a lot of good days. She made sure we had those. It's been a long time since I let myself remember them.
"I wouldn't have to be bossy if you'd get your stubborn, luscious ass back in the bed," he says, scooping me up into his arms and stomping toward said bed. "You're taking the day off."
I huff and then glare at him when he drops me on the bed. "I'm annoyed with you."
"No, you aren't." He smiles, touching my bottom lip.
"Exactly! That's why I'm annoyed." If he were anyone else, I'd be giving him hell right now for telling me what to do. But when he does it, I get all mushy inside. It's ridiculous.
"You only fight me because you don't know how to let yourself be taken care of, but you'll learn." He presses his lips to my forehead and then fluffs my pillows. "Now, what do you want for breakfast?"
"Coffee." I hesitate. "And blueberry scones."
He gives me the side-eye. "If I go get your coffee and scones, will you stay in bed?"
"Maybe."
He growls at me, making me smile.
"Just kidding. I'll stay in bed. But I want two scones. And a giant coffee. Oh, and can I have a peanut butter cookie for later?"
"You can have whatever you want if it keeps your pretty ass in this bed."
“I’ll stay in bed,” I promise. I know he’s worried about me, and I don’t want to stress him out more than he already is. Okay, so maybe I enjoy stressing him out a little bit, but not after yesterday. I think that was enough stress for both of us for the next month.
He presses his lips to mine in a grateful kiss. “Rest, little rebel. I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay. Love you,” I whisper, snuggling in with a contented sigh.
He brushes his hand down the side of my face and then strides toward the closet to get dressed. I watch him go because, obviously, I mean, he’s naked, and he has a gorgeous, firm ass. Who wouldn’t watch him go? And then I let my eyes drift close.
Two seconds later, his phone rings.
I grumble and peel my eyes open.
“Can you get that, little rebel?” Zane shouts from the closet.
“Yes,” I shout back, reaching for the phone on the bedside table. I frown when I see Andreas’s name on the display, only he’s listed asPlayboy the Stooge. I swipe to answer. “It’s way too early for you to be worrying about me already, Stooge.”
“Stooge? Don’t answer that,” he mutters, his voice tense. “Put Zane on the phone.”
Unease drifts through me. I’ve known Andreas my entire life. I can tell when he’s upset, and right now, he’s upset. Something is wrong.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, sitting up in the bed.
“Put Zane on the phone, baby sister,” he says, his voice soft.
Zane steps out of the closet, pulling a shirt on over his head. He takes one look at my face and comes rushing across the room toward me. “What’s wrong, little rebel?”
“He’s asking for you,” I mumble, holding the phone out toward him. “It’s Andreas.”