Page 18 of His Wisconsin Wallflower (Stateside Doms #25)

Chapter Sixteen

Raisa stirred, the comforting curl of her body mirroring her usual waking position. But that was where the familiarity ended.

A faint trace of Quinten’s cologne clung in the air, mingling with something heady, tangy, and sweet. Her nose twitched at the unfamiliar scent, her brows drawing together as she cracked open her eyes. I had sex. I had sex with Quinten. I had wild and kinky sex with Quinten, and I liked it!

She blinked, keeping her breathing steady. She wasn’t ready to face him.

The room was dim but far from her cozy, cluttered bedroom. The sheets she was lying on were smoother, the bed wider. Her body ached in all kinds of interesting places. She shifted her legs, and her muscles protested. Her ears started to burn like they were on fire. Oh. Oh. Last night.

A rush of heat surged across her cheeks as fractured images flashed through her mind—his command, the ropes.

The pressure of his cock when he finally surged inside her after making her come more times than she could count.

His dirty talk egging her on as she allowed him access to her body and into her mind.

Her heart thudded as she closed her eyes.

I’ll think about that later. She willed her thoughts to focus.

With a shaky inhalation, she scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. A soft light filtered from an ajar bedroom door. It had to be Monday morning.

I need to go to work.

The thought triggered a pang of panic. Oh no, no, no, she was going to do the walk of shame. Or... was it a walk of victory?

A slow smile curved her lips. After last night? Definitely a victory. That man is a champion between the sheets.

She stretched her legs under the covers, each movement slow and deliberate as she unfurled like a cautious chameleon blending into its surroundings.

The cool sheets brushed against her, and she worried her lip as her muscles groaned from the unusual exertion.

Turning over, she noted the rumpled emptiness beside her.

She grazed her fingers over the mattress, and the chill confirmed Quinten had been gone for a while.

Relief trickled in but was soon chased away by disappointment.

What was the protocol here? What do you say to a guy after a night like that?

Uhm, hello-oh, how about ‘thank you’!

She smothered a groan . Her pussy was sore—in a good way—from the overuse the night before. Before Quinten, she had only had sex twice, and it had never been like this. Heck, the man was even better than her favorite toy, and she would never ever have thought she would say that about a person.

The soft creak of the door swinging open startled her upright. Light from the hallway framed a tall silhouette, and her heart leapt. She clutched the blanket to her chest, her pulse thundering in her ears.

“Easy, killer.” Quinten’s low drawl smoothed over her nerves. “You’ve already seen me, and I’ve seen... well, plenty.” His smirk sent another blush burning through her as she yanked the blanket higher, propped up her pillow, and scooted against the headboard in one awkward motion.

Only then did she notice the tray balanced in his hands.

Her jaw slackened. “You made breakfast?”

Quinten, clad in nothing but boxers that left very little to the imagination, set the tray on the nightstand and switch on the side lamp.

The aroma of bacon and coffee wafted toward her, making her stomach rumble.

He plucked a shirt from the floor—his dress shirt from the night before—and handed it to her.

“Here, put this on—you’ll need your hands to eat.” His tone left no room for argument. “While I don’t mind seeing you naked, I want you comfortable enough to eat.”

She slid her arms through the sleeves and fumbled with the buttons. Before she could secure the second, he brushed aside her hands and deftly buttoned the shirt for her. He stopped three buttons shy of the top, grazing his knuckles over the swell of her breasts.

She sucked in air and didn’t miss how the lines beside his eyes crinkled wickedly. Half expecting him to take it further, she braced herself, but he straightened, gave her a soft peck on her lips, and a mumbled, “Good morning, bright-eyes.”

The oversized shirt hung loose on her frame, the fabric soft against her skin. She glanced down—no cleavage showing. Thank goodness.

Quinten retrieved the tray, perched beside her on the bed, and placed it on her lap. The mug of coffee wobbled slightly, and she steadied it with both hands.

Unreal.

This man—her man?—had made her breakfast in bed.

“Eat,” he ordered gently, spearing a fluffy mound of scrambled eggs with a fork and lifting it to her mouth.

She obeyed, the first bite melting on her tongue. Creamy, perfectly seasoned, warm. He followed it with a bite of buttered toast, and she couldn’t hold back a hum of approval.

She had so many thoughts and questions. The most important one— how the hell am I going to make up for the lost time this morning ? “What time is it?”

He fed her another forkful before she could protest.

She swallowed and flicked her gaze toward the window.

He grinned, leaning back against the headboard with an air of smug satisfaction. “A little before 5 AM. I figured you’d need an early start.”

Her jaw slackened again. Could this man be any more perfect?

Before she could find the words to express her gratitude, he fed her a piece of bacon and more toast, leaving her to savor the perfect blend of flavors. “Next time,” he murmured, his voice low, “I’ll wake you early so you can make us biscuits.”

Next time?

Her heart gave a small, hopeful flutter as the words sank in.