Page 45 of The Arrogant One

She laughed as she answered, and I could hear the morning thick in her voice.

“You took those words literally, didn’t you?”

“That, and I really wanted to hear what you sounded like when you first woke up. That chance was stolen from me before.”

She let out a moan. “Are you a romantic, Lockhart?”

“You want the honest answer?”

“Always.”

“I don’t know. I never get far enough to even test it out. I’m usually gone before the sun rises. But this morning, I wanted you in my bed. I wanted you in my arms. And when you said you wanted to talk, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity of knowing your sounds.”

As I walked into the kitchen to make some pre-workout carbs, I glanced through the hallway of windows, the sun hitting my face as it peeked through the clouds.

“Do you know what else I’m craving to know about you?”

“Tell me.”

“To see how soft you look in the morning.”

Her laugh was gritty. “Soft?”

“Your skin. Your smile. The feel of you against me—all things that I assume are extremely soft.” I stopped in front of the coffee maker. “I suspect you look different in the morning than you do at night. I don’t mean because of the lack of makeup. I mean because dawn makes everyone a bit more vulnerable. I want to know how that vulnerability appears on you.”

She sighed. “God, you are a romantic.”

I positioned the cup and hit the button for one shot. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It’s a very, very good thing. It just means I’m going to be a heaping pile of goo. All the time. Like I am right now.”

“Even in the morning?”

“Ugh. A tough task, but you just did it, so it’s possible.” Her tone backed up her words.

“What’s your beef with mornings?”

I could hear the rustle of sheets as she said, “I tend to stay up late—sometimes working, sometimes not—so when my alarm goes off, it feels like I haven’t gone to bed yet, even if I’vegotten six or so hours of sleep. It takes me a while to pump myself with enough caffeine to get going.”

“Social media never sleeps.”

“It truly doesn’t.”

I held the shot of espresso to my lips. “Are you a coffee drinker?”

“Coffee, followed by a late morning energy drink, and I’m not opposed to an afternoon latte either.”

I chuckled. “That’s one hell of a caffeine dose.”

“When I said it takes a lot to get me going, I wasn’t kidding. Where does your love of mornings come from?”

I left the cup on the counter and popped a piece of sourdough bread into the toaster. “Well, I wouldn’t call it a love. I would call it a routine. I get up early to work out. I don’t have it in me to do the afternoons or evenings, and since I have a home gym, it’s easiest to get it done and go to work.” I scratched my bare chest. “The earliness carries over into the weekends. Shit, I wouldn’t even know how to sleep in past six.”

“Ugh.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t wake you tomorrow morning—but if, at any point, you’ve questioned whether you’re staying the night, the answer to that is yes.”

Her laugh was small but powerful. “I figured.”