I took a sip and bit back a moan. What kind of coffee was this? It was the best I’d ever had. I took another, slower sip, savoring the rich taste.
“Morning, Mark.” Quinn walked into the kitchen, looking tousled and still half asleep.
I nearly spilled the coffee down my front. f**k. I hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs.
“Did you sleep well?” He rubbed a hand over his hair, leaving it more tousled, and my fingers itched with the urge to smooth it down. Fortunately, he was unaware. He crossed to the cupboard to get down a cup for himself, filled it, and added a splash of cream.
“Sure.” I scowled at him. Those pajamas looked familiar. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No. I had to get up anyway. And no, I have no intention of telling you why.” He brushed the lock of hair out of his eye
