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“Sorry.” She laughs, tucking her face into my chest. “You said pizza and I guess my body decided it was hungry.”

“What time is it?” I ask as I glance over at my bedside table. Nearly three in the afternoon. We’ve been in bed most of the day and I’ve been so wrapped up in her body, I didn’t even think to feed her. “Shit. It’s late. You’re probably starving.”

“Not until about thirty seconds ago.” She looks back up at me. “I hadotherthings on my mind.” She fights the smile that plays on her lips.

“What are you in the mood for?” I sit up, taking her with me.

“Anything.”

“You don’t have a preference?”

“I mean, pizza sounds pretty good.” She smiles sheepishly.

Fuck, she really is so beautiful.

“What do you like on your pizza?” I throw my legs over the side of the bed before pushing to a stand. After slipping on my boxers, I cross the room and grab two clean shirts out of the dresser before tossing one to her.

I know she has clothes of her own, but after seeing her walking around in nothing but my shirt yesterday, I’m eager to repeat the process.

“Pineapple.” She snorts out a laugh when I turn wide eyes on her.

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“I would never fuck with you.” She pushes up onto her knees, giving me the perfect shot of her exquisite body for a few short seconds before she slides my tee over her head. “Have you ever tried it?”

“No, and I never will.” I curl my nose in disgust as I slide on my own shirt.

“How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?” She climbs out of bed and pads across the floor toward me.

“Some things I just know.”

“Like how you knew we wouldn’t work?” She arches a brow, trailing her hands up my chest. “Turns out we work really”—she presses up on her toes—“really”—she kisses the side of my mouth as she palms my dick, and I bite back a groan—“well.” She finally finishes, smiling as she pulls away.

“I never doubted we’d be good in bed.” I grab her hand, pulling her back to me, my fingers going into her hair as I angle her face up toward mine.

It’s no secret that I’m at odds with this. On one hand, she’s basically all I’ve thought about for the last several months and telling her that this is a one-time thing feels equivalent to stabbing myself straight through the ribs with a serrated blade and twisting—excruciating. On the other, I can’t shake the feeling that if I don’t, I will regret it. Maybe not today. Or a week from now. Or even a month from now. But one day, when the reality of our situation comes crashing down and I’m forced to end whatever this is. On that day, I will regret not letting her go when I was still able to.

But that day is not today.

I angle her head to give me better access, kissing her good and proper before releasing her, knowing if I don’t, there’s no chance we’ll be leaving this room anytime soon and she needs to eat.

“You really want pizza?”

“I really want pizza.”

“With pineapple?”

“With pineapple,” she confirms. “I guess some of us are just wired wrong.” She gives me a cheeky grin before she practically skips out of my bedroom.

This gorgeous woman is going to be the death of me.

Pineapple on pizza.

Fuck me.

Chapter Seven

Charlotte