"Morning," he murmurs against my neck, pressing a kiss there.
"Morning." I turn in his arms. "I made coffee. Or tried to."
"I can see that." He glances at the coffee maker, which is making concerning gurgling noises. "You actually got it working. I'm impressed."
"I'm full of surprises."
"You really are," he says, and something in his tone makes me look up.
He's looking at me with this expression I can't quite read. Tender and conflicted and wanting all at once.
"What?" I ask.
"You're wearing my shirt."
"I couldn't find mine. Is that okay?"
"It's more than okay." His hands slide under the hem, stroking my bare thighs. "You look good in my clothes."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kisses me, slow and sweet, and I'm just starting to get into it when his phone rings.
We both freeze.
He closes
