I stretched lazily under the covers, fingers sliding across the cool, empty sheet where his warmth should have been.
The indent from his body was still there—faint, like a ghost—but he was gone. My heart did that stupid little dip it always did when he wasn’t within reach.
“Mmmh…” I mumbled into the pillow, rubbing my eyes. The ache between my legs pulsed sweetly with every shift—reminder of how deep he’d been, how slow he’d taken me apart.
I pressed my thighs together, savoring it, wondering where the hell he’d disappeared to at… whatever ungodly hour this was.
The bedroom door creaked open.
I turned my head just in time to see him step in—barefoot, sweatpants low again, no shirt, hair still sleep-rumpled and sexy as sin.
In his hands: a small white plate with a thick slice of crea
