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I palm him through his slacks, delighting in his grunt. “I’m turning the stove off,” he growls against my mouth. “We can order food later.”

This I know.

This I want.

This I can handle.

37

ACCELERATION

We miss the window for food delivery and end up making the pasta and reheating sauce at one in the morning. Then we stumble upstairs and embrace carb-comas until Leo’s alarm goes off at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m.

Gently removing his arm from beneath my head, he disappears into the bathroom. The shower comes on a minute later. I wiggle into the strip of heat left by his body and drift between sleep and waking until the water shuts off. Then I haul myself from bed in the hazy dawn light to rifle through my backpack for clean clothes.

I’m sitting on the bed, a sleep-deprived zombie with bedhead, when Leo reappears. He smirks at me as he deftly buttons his charcoal dress shirt.

I scowl back. “How do you look so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? It’s not natural. I feel bulldozed.”

“Practice,” he drawls, dropping a kiss on my head before moving to a nearby dresser. He smells unbelievably good. Me? Not so much.

I flop back onto the bed and stretch my arms, wincing at how sore I am in places with no business being sore. Returning from the dresser, Leo sits near my hip to put on socks. I memorize his handsome, relaxed profile, the flex of muscles in his back, the thick wrists and strong, talented hands. Even the muted swish of his shirt as he moves is music to me.

My chest feels unaccountably warm. Domestic bliss is so real.

He pivots, finding me watching him. “I’m glad you stayed the night,” he says softly.

“Me too. Your bed is topnotch.”

He grins. “So that’s why you stayed. I knew it.”

I suppress a smile. “You make a pretty good pillow, too.”

He snorts and reaches for his tie. Sensing the end of our time together nearing, I stand and try to tame the rat’s nest on my head, then slip into my shoes and repack my backpack. When I’m finished, I wait awkwardly near the bed as he puts on his tie before a mirror.

“So, um…” I clear the frog from my throat. “That is…”

Dancing eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Just say it,” he says.

“AmIgoingtoseeyouagain?”

Leo abandons his half-done tie and crosses to me. He’s trying hard not to laugh. Reaching up, he gently tugs a rogue strand of pink hair. “You are hands down the most adorable, funny woman I’ve ever met.”

“Pfft. Of course I am.”

He kisses me hard, then steps back. Suddenly serious, he asks, “Do you want to see me again?”

Flippancy escapes me. “Yes.”

Do I catch relief in his eyes? I’m not sure, but his smile wakes up parts of me that really need a day off.

“How about Friday night?” he asks, eyes back on the mirror and his tie. “We can get dinner?”

I almost choke on euphoria. “At a restaurant?”

He freezes. “I was thinking I could cook for you here.”

Ah.