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“There’s a department store down the street; we can buy you new clothes.”

His hand nudges lower, skating over my skin with heat as he trails down to my pussy. A pulse runs through me, alighting fresh need. Memories of last night start to trickle back, prompting slick to gather.

I try to keep my wits about me.

“Doesn’t fix the laptop issue.”

“I’ll buy you one of those as well.”

“Yeah, sorry, stud. Not how that works.”

“Is that really what you want to focus on right now? Because I can think of much better things.”

He slips his hands between us, teasing my already wet folds. There’s a small short circuit of my brain before I’m able to get it back online and try to squirm away.

“Cullen, I can’t be late.”

“Then you better stop squirming and spread those legs.”

His fingers push inside, and my desire takes over. My body goes lax as he shifts down the bed and hooks my legs over his shoulders. The flat of his tongue licks a deft line up my pussy, sparking my clit as he gives it a suck.

I try to remind myself that I don’t necessarily have the time to be doing this, that I need to trek all the way back uptown to grab all my stuff before dragging myself all the way back over here to head into the office. But logic doesn’t really seem to be my friend right now.

I lose myself to the pleasure as Cullen eats me out with the hunger of a starving man. His stubble grazes my soft skin, prickling it. My body is still sore from last night, thighs sensitive from the relentless pounding, but it just makes me smile.

My hands thread in his hair, grasping at his brown locks as he brings me closer and closer to that holy place. When I finally ascend, my orgasm bursting out of me, Cullen laps it up with a groan.

God, I could hear that man moan for days and never be sick of it. I would turn it into my text alert if it wouldn’t get me into trouble.

I lie in a state of orgasmic bliss, spread out on the soft sheets as Cullen kisses my inner thigh.

“Now, wasn’t that a better way to start your morning?”

“Mhm.”

He picks me up and carries me into his large en suite bathroom, stepping over the dirty sheets from last night that are still haphazardly thrown in the corner. After I soaked through them, he’d tossed them off and replaced them while I was in the shower.

Cullen places me on the counter next to the sink and grabs a washcloth before dousing it with warm water and cleaning my sensitive skin. I stare at him dreamily, wondering how I lucked out.

I also wonder how I settled for such crappy men in the past. I can’t think of one other time when a guy took such good care of me. There was one guy in college who used his T-shirt to clean his cum off my stomach, but he didn’t even offer me a shower before promptly falling asleep.

“Here.”

Cullen hands me a cup of mouthwash before starting up his own electric toothbrush. I swish the blue minty liquid around a few times before spitting it in the sink. I have enough strength back in my legs to slip off the counter and stand next to him. We move about in pleasant silence as I wash my face with the limited skin-care products he owns.

I’m still fully aware that while Cullen has tugged on a pair of navy-blue boxers, I am totally naked. I pad out of the bathroom in search of my clothes, which are strewn all over the bedroom. I finally have a chance to fully take in his place, with the bright light of the morning streaming in.

His bedroom alone has to be the size of Hannah’s and my entire apartment. It’s pretty minimalistic overall, made up mostly with dark tones of blacks, grays, and blues. There are files strewn on a desk in the corner, and his work backpack is on the ground next to it. A shirt is thrown over the back of the desk chair, my underwear somehow having landed there as well. The walls are plain, and there doesn’t seem to be much of a personal touch anywhere. I know he only recently moved in a few weeks ago, but it feels like it could use at least a picture or two.

I end up bypassing my dress for his shirt, tugging my arms into the sleeves.

My curiosity gets the better of me, and I pad out of his room into the main body of the apartment. There is a warmer feel out here, but it still holds that modern, rich feel. It’s an open layout, the kitchen area bleeding into the living area. It’s the type ofplace you see in those fancy magazines, decked out with marble countertops and large windows.

A charcoal L-shaped couch, with a large, knitted blanket thrown over the back, rests on top of a cream rug. In front of the couch sits a coffee table, laid before a stupidly large mounted TV that takes center stage. Below the television is a long, skinny set of drawers, which have a few photo frames plus a video game console on top. I recognize some of the people in the pictures instantly. Cullen and Chloe smiling in front of the Taj Mahal, another of Cullen, Chloe, and Bridget in the snow, one of what looks to be Cullen in college with Sonny and two men I don’t recognize, and a family photo of who I assume is Cullen as a child.

Something tells me that he didn’t have a hand in picking these out, and I smile at the idea of his sister or Bridget fussing around and trying to make his place feel a little homier. I don’t know either of the two women well, but Cullen cherishes them both.

A tall potted plant takes root in the corner, with an equally tall and obviously expensive lamp beside it. It’s there that I spot my purse—or more precisely, Hannah’s purse.