70

“Mmm,” she yawned.

For the last two months that she’d been waking up in my bed, I’d learned that mornings were her least favorite time of day. She needed time to rise, time before she was ready for conversation. But seeing her face fresh without makeup, feeling her skin extra warm, having her completely naked in my arms—this was my favorite time of the day.

I couldn’t get enough of her.

And I had no problem holding her just like this for the next several hours, but I was positive there was something she was craving, especially as the sun came in through my windows, casting its rays across her cheeks.

“Coffee?”

“Mmm,” she groaned again. “Please.”

I kissed the top of her head. “Be right back.”

I slid out from underneath her, grabbing my phone from the nightstand before I made my way into the kitchen. As I placed the first cup under the brewing machine, I scrolled through all the messages that had come in overnight. Aside from a multitude of emails, there was a group text that caught my