Rock Chick Revolution
Page 11
I felt my happy place pulse.
His eyes moved to mine; my happy place must have communicated its happiness on my face because his face got dark. His arm, already around me, tightened, and he dragged me up his chest, even as he rolled. His body pinned mine to the bed as his lips covered mine for a deep, wet morning kiss that was so damned good, it made my happy place pound.
Ren then pressed a knee between my legs. I opened them in invitation, and for my graciousness, I got a hard muscled thigh pressed tight against my happy place.
I moaned down his throat.
He pushed his h*ps against my thigh and groaned down mine.
His happy place was happy, too.
I decided I needed to do something about making it happier.
So I did.
As did he.
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later, we were both still breathing a little heavily. Ren’s face was in my neck. He was buried deep inside me. Our skin was misted with damp. The fingers of one of my hands were in his hair. My other arm was curved tight around his back, and both my legs were wrapped around his thighs.
After a late night that included lots of mind-blowing sex, I had just discovered he was also good in the morning.
Why did I not find this surprising?
He lifted his head and his warm, sexy eyes caught mine. This had the result of making me catch my breath.
“You want me to make you breakfast?” he asked.
Jeez.
Seriously?
This guy could also cook?
I tested the waters.
“Are we talking instant oatmeal or eggs benedict?”
That got another lip quirk before he answered, “I was thinking croissants, eggs whatever way you want ‘em, fresh strawberries, bacon and tater tots.”
Did he say tater tots?
For breakfast?
“Did you say tater tots?” I asked in order to confirm.
“Baby.” His h*ps pressed into mine. I bit my lip at how good that felt and his face dipped close. “Tater tots rock breakfast.”
Ren Zano ate tater tots for breakfast and served them up to his f**k buddies.
He was a dream.
“I’m totally down for breakfast,” I answered.
At that he smiled and my world ended.
Again.
Because I wanted that smile every morning right after mind-blowing sex and right before my tater tots.
And I wanted it for a lifetime.
Don’t ask me how I knew this, I just did. Deep down, I knew it. Right to the very heart of me.
But I didn’t let on.
Again.
* * * * *
Forty-five minutes later…
“You’re right. Tater tots rock breakfast,” I said to Ren, incidentally saying it around a mouth full of ketchup-covered tater tots.
He grinned at me.
I returned the favor (closed mouthed, because food grins were gross) and looked down to my plate of food.
We were standing in his kitchen. Or he was. He’d cooked for me while I made coffee and then watched him cook. His scrambled eggs were fluffy, cheesy and delicious. His bacon was crisped to perfection. His croissants were bought fresh from a local bakery and they were buttery and amazing.
But when he offered me my filled plate and told me to take it to the dining room, I hefted my ass up on the counter and commenced eating.
This might have been rude, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. I accepted his apology. I accepted his body. I gave him mine. That was as far as this was going to go.
You might think I was crazy, but a man doesn’t fight over a woman, take her back, carry her from a crashed car that would eventually explode (told you the Rock Chicks were magnets for trouble—when I said trouble, I meant trouble), and speak her name in his sleep with another woman in his bed and not be hung up on her.
This was fact.
So I wasn’t going to set myself up for that kind of heartbreak. I wasn’t like Ava, blonde with lots of tits and ass. Okay, so I had some ass, but not lots of it. And I was a girl so I had tits, just not the kind of rack Ava had. I was also a brunette.
I wasn’t his type.
I was just available.
And I’d continue to be available, especially if fantastic sex came with breakfast that included tater tots.
But I was drawing that line. No doing budding couple stuff like sitting at the dining room table, eating breakfast and sharing after a night of great sex.
No, it was going to be snarfing down your delicious fluffy eggs and tater tots in an I’m-a-girl-on-the-go kind of way, then being the girl on the go by going. Then, if the spirit moved him or me, coming back for more.
The weird part of me making this non-verbal statement was that Ren didn’t push it. Instead, he watched me hop up on his counter. His eyes flashed with humor even as his lips quirked with it, and he settled his h*ps against the counter kitty corner from me.
But he kept his eyes on my ass on his counter in a way that told me he was currently—and would later—be thinking about my ass on his counter in a good way. This made me think about other ways my ass could be on his counter, and these were good, too.
My happy place, sated and content, started getting happy again.
I didn’t need to get happy again. I wanted to get happy, but I didn’t need it.
I needed to get to Fortnum’s, hang with my friends and be in my normal. That was to say, see if one of Lee’s other guys decided to wade into the troubled life of some sick gorgeous woman who had people wanting to kidnap her, stab her or steal her money, and wade into that.
I also needed to make some money. I might not be girlie, as it were, but I liked my rock concerts and LBDs, and neither of those came cheap.
Therefore, I declared, “Glad we did this, Zano. It’s good we didn’t leave it as it was. Where this is at right now is much better. But after I help you with the dishes, I gotta bounce. I have to get to work.”
As I spoke, his gaze went from my ass to my eyes, and when I was done talking, he announced, “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”
Shit.
I’d like that too, but that wasn’t going to happen.
I shoved the last tater tot in my mouth, jumped off the counter and turned to the sink. I rinsed my plate, put it in the sink and turned to him.
Leaning a hip against the counter, I caught his eyes and gentled my voice when I told him, “Listen, this is good and I like it. But I just got out of a somewhat long-term relationship and I gotta sort my shit before I move on from that.”
This wasn’t exactly a lie. Carl and I were close. I missed him. I wasn’t pining for him; I knew I’d made the right decision. But it wasn’t like we ended things six months ago. Our break was recent.
His eyes moved to mine; my happy place must have communicated its happiness on my face because his face got dark. His arm, already around me, tightened, and he dragged me up his chest, even as he rolled. His body pinned mine to the bed as his lips covered mine for a deep, wet morning kiss that was so damned good, it made my happy place pound.
Ren then pressed a knee between my legs. I opened them in invitation, and for my graciousness, I got a hard muscled thigh pressed tight against my happy place.
I moaned down his throat.
He pushed his h*ps against my thigh and groaned down mine.
His happy place was happy, too.
I decided I needed to do something about making it happier.
So I did.
As did he.
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later, we were both still breathing a little heavily. Ren’s face was in my neck. He was buried deep inside me. Our skin was misted with damp. The fingers of one of my hands were in his hair. My other arm was curved tight around his back, and both my legs were wrapped around his thighs.
After a late night that included lots of mind-blowing sex, I had just discovered he was also good in the morning.
Why did I not find this surprising?
He lifted his head and his warm, sexy eyes caught mine. This had the result of making me catch my breath.
“You want me to make you breakfast?” he asked.
Jeez.
Seriously?
This guy could also cook?
I tested the waters.
“Are we talking instant oatmeal or eggs benedict?”
That got another lip quirk before he answered, “I was thinking croissants, eggs whatever way you want ‘em, fresh strawberries, bacon and tater tots.”
Did he say tater tots?
For breakfast?
“Did you say tater tots?” I asked in order to confirm.
“Baby.” His h*ps pressed into mine. I bit my lip at how good that felt and his face dipped close. “Tater tots rock breakfast.”
Ren Zano ate tater tots for breakfast and served them up to his f**k buddies.
He was a dream.
“I’m totally down for breakfast,” I answered.
At that he smiled and my world ended.
Again.
Because I wanted that smile every morning right after mind-blowing sex and right before my tater tots.
And I wanted it for a lifetime.
Don’t ask me how I knew this, I just did. Deep down, I knew it. Right to the very heart of me.
But I didn’t let on.
Again.
* * * * *
Forty-five minutes later…
“You’re right. Tater tots rock breakfast,” I said to Ren, incidentally saying it around a mouth full of ketchup-covered tater tots.
He grinned at me.
I returned the favor (closed mouthed, because food grins were gross) and looked down to my plate of food.
We were standing in his kitchen. Or he was. He’d cooked for me while I made coffee and then watched him cook. His scrambled eggs were fluffy, cheesy and delicious. His bacon was crisped to perfection. His croissants were bought fresh from a local bakery and they were buttery and amazing.
But when he offered me my filled plate and told me to take it to the dining room, I hefted my ass up on the counter and commenced eating.
This might have been rude, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. I accepted his apology. I accepted his body. I gave him mine. That was as far as this was going to go.
You might think I was crazy, but a man doesn’t fight over a woman, take her back, carry her from a crashed car that would eventually explode (told you the Rock Chicks were magnets for trouble—when I said trouble, I meant trouble), and speak her name in his sleep with another woman in his bed and not be hung up on her.
This was fact.
So I wasn’t going to set myself up for that kind of heartbreak. I wasn’t like Ava, blonde with lots of tits and ass. Okay, so I had some ass, but not lots of it. And I was a girl so I had tits, just not the kind of rack Ava had. I was also a brunette.
I wasn’t his type.
I was just available.
And I’d continue to be available, especially if fantastic sex came with breakfast that included tater tots.
But I was drawing that line. No doing budding couple stuff like sitting at the dining room table, eating breakfast and sharing after a night of great sex.
No, it was going to be snarfing down your delicious fluffy eggs and tater tots in an I’m-a-girl-on-the-go kind of way, then being the girl on the go by going. Then, if the spirit moved him or me, coming back for more.
The weird part of me making this non-verbal statement was that Ren didn’t push it. Instead, he watched me hop up on his counter. His eyes flashed with humor even as his lips quirked with it, and he settled his h*ps against the counter kitty corner from me.
But he kept his eyes on my ass on his counter in a way that told me he was currently—and would later—be thinking about my ass on his counter in a good way. This made me think about other ways my ass could be on his counter, and these were good, too.
My happy place, sated and content, started getting happy again.
I didn’t need to get happy again. I wanted to get happy, but I didn’t need it.
I needed to get to Fortnum’s, hang with my friends and be in my normal. That was to say, see if one of Lee’s other guys decided to wade into the troubled life of some sick gorgeous woman who had people wanting to kidnap her, stab her or steal her money, and wade into that.
I also needed to make some money. I might not be girlie, as it were, but I liked my rock concerts and LBDs, and neither of those came cheap.
Therefore, I declared, “Glad we did this, Zano. It’s good we didn’t leave it as it was. Where this is at right now is much better. But after I help you with the dishes, I gotta bounce. I have to get to work.”
As I spoke, his gaze went from my ass to my eyes, and when I was done talking, he announced, “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”
Shit.
I’d like that too, but that wasn’t going to happen.
I shoved the last tater tot in my mouth, jumped off the counter and turned to the sink. I rinsed my plate, put it in the sink and turned to him.
Leaning a hip against the counter, I caught his eyes and gentled my voice when I told him, “Listen, this is good and I like it. But I just got out of a somewhat long-term relationship and I gotta sort my shit before I move on from that.”
This wasn’t exactly a lie. Carl and I were close. I missed him. I wasn’t pining for him; I knew I’d made the right decision. But it wasn’t like we ended things six months ago. Our break was recent.
