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Chapter 8

Emi

A dull buzzing sound rings in my ears, and I swat at the nightstand to stop it. Instead of coming into contact with the hard wood, I whack something warm.

“Shit, Emi!” There’s a hiss, waking me fully.

I jolt up and push the hair off my face, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings. There’s another loud grunt, and I squeak when the foundation under my elbow shifts and I fall back.

“Jesus, do you always wake up violently?” Walker’s face comes into my line of sight, his hand cupping my cheek.

“Walker,” I whisper, remembering where I am.

“I sure as fuck hope so, considering it’s my bed,” he quips.

“I forgot where I was for a second. The buzzing disrupted my dream, and I was trying to make it stop,” I explain.

His expression softens, his eyes roaming over my face. “You’re even more beautiful in the morning.”

Dread sets in because I know exactly what I look like when I wake up. My hair’s a nest, considering I twist my head a hundred times during the night. I’m certain there’s make-up rimming my eyes since I didn’t thoroughly wash my face, and the sour taste of my last lemon drop is on my tongue.

He, on the other hand, looks amazing. His dark hair is ruffled in a deliciously sexy way, his hazel eyes bright, and the scruff on his face looks fuller than when we fell asleep. My eyes run along the design of his tattoo, and my heart starts to race. I stare at him, momentarily forgetting my hot mess.

“Good morning.” He leans in to kiss me, and I stop him by

slamming my hand over my mouth.

“Morning breath,” I garble.

“I don’t give a shit about morning breath. I want a kiss.”

My head shakes back and forth. “Too gross.” I swallow the nasty taste.

His eyes start to dance with humor as he stares, waiting for me to relent. When I don’t, he kisses the back of my hand and rolls to the side, taking me with him.

“There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom drawer. It’s hot pink. You can’t miss it. I bought it for you yesterday.”

I remove my hand and nuzzle into his shoulder, soaking in his warmth. “You bought me a toothbrush?”

“I did.”

“What if I’d insisted on going home last night?”

“I knew, eventually, it would come in handy.”

The buzzing returns, and I lift up looking around. “What is that?”

“My alarm.”

“Can you make it stop? It’s horrible.”

He chuckles, his chest vibrating under my hand, as he twists and grabs his phone. “We need to get up, babe. It’s almost six-thirty.”

“Oh my God, no, it’s too early.” I dig deeper into his side.

“There’s nothing I’d like more than to lay in bed with you all day, but I have shit to do at work, and I need to take you home.”

“Next time, we’re staying at my house. This is ungodly.” Realization of what I’ve said strikes me, and I suck in a deep breath.