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The gentle brush of his lips on mine gives me just a hint of his taste and the restraint he’s using not to push it further. I sink into him, into his scent and his touch and the brief skim of his lips over mine. A shiver rolls through me, sparking pleasure in the tips of my fingers and toes.

This man. He just does it for me in myriad ways.

“Braxton,” I whisper, leaning in.

“No more,” he says, pulling back. He smirks. “No more until after we eat, and then, I promise you, I’ll take away all the horrible parts about your day and replace them with good ones.”

“What bad parts?” I ask.

He laughs, tucks me into his shoulder and kisses the top of my head. Then he kicks his feet up on the coffee table, flicks the television on and pulls up Netflix. We watch mindless television until the pizza arrives.

—

Lips brush against my neck, followed by a flick of a tongue and a slight bite of teeth. “Mmm.” I shift back. I really like this dream I’m having.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Braxton says. “I need to get Lucy outside.”

Hm. In my dreams, Braxton does and says a lot of things but he never talks about his dog.

“Cara,” he says, as I press back again. This time he chuckles, his hand slides to my stomach. “As much as I’m liking this sleepy side of you, we need to get moving.”

He doesn’t sound like he wants to move. He doesn’t feel like he does either, not with his erection pressed up against my backside.

“Honey, you have to stop that, as much as I’m enjoying it.” Now he’s groaning, in a not so pleasant way. And since when does he stop me? Which means…

I flip my eyes open and flinch. “Um. What?”

His breath is at my ear, tickling me. “Good morning.”

I wipe the sleepy haze from my mind and blink. Oh God.

We’re in his living room, and it’s now bright out. Netflix isn’t on and the fire he turned on last night after we ate and I took a shower isn’t on anymore either.

“Braxton?” I ask, still frozen, still feeling him along my length of my body, his arm is still at my stomach, beneath my long-sleeved shirt. The fact I even say his name is ridiculous. Who else would I be sleeping with?

Oh no. We slept together? On his couch?

“Good morning,” he says again, and as he does, his arm beneath my head slides out. He shifts, until he’s practically on top of me and I’m on my back. Wow…he looks really, really good in the morning.

I reach out my hand and slide it against his cheek. It’s been days since he shaved and the coarse hairs tickle my palm. “Hey. We fell asleep?”

His eyes dance back and forth between mine and he grins. “You did. I didn’t want to wake you up by moving you so I settled down with you.”

My eyes pop open. “What?”

“Told you I wanted to sleep with you again.” He grins shamelessly as I roll my eyes, then he moves, and when he does, my eyes widen further.

He settles himself on top of me, and my knees— traitorous body—open for him, allowing him to lower until his erection is at my center.

“Oh.” I can’t suck in the breath before it escapes me.

“Yeah,” he says, moving closer. With his nose, he presses my face to the side, and trails kisses across my cheek, to my jaw, back to my ear. “And I’m really, really liking where this might be going, been wanting you in the morning just like this for a long time. But I really do have to get Lucy out.”

Who gives a crap about the mutt? “Not yet.”

I slide my hand from his cheek to his shoulder, down his arm, to his side. God, I’ve missed this, and with him so close, pressed against me, I really, really want it.

“Come with me? We can get you some juice and take Lucy somewhere to get some breakfast.”