I rub the sleep from my eyes, throw off the covers, and pad into the adjoining bathroom. My bladder isn’t so much full as it is ready to burst. I use the toilet, then wash my hands and face and brush my teeth because my breath is poisonous. When I realize I’ve used Ryan’s toothbrush without a second thought, I have a lot of second thoughts, and stand there staring at it in my hand.
From the doorway comes his amused voice. “I can see the smoke pourin’ from your ears, Angel. Don’t pop a blood vessel over there.”
I glance at him. He’s shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of faded jeans, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest and a wry smile on his lips.
As always, he’s beautiful. A big, muscular, tattooed, golden beauty of a man who claims I’m his.
My hea
