Page 70 of Promised Love
AUTUMN
When I stretch out my feet, they don’t hit the cushioned couch arm, and that’s how I realize I’m sleeping on the bed. And that realization is soon followed by several more. Like I’m naked and not alone.
I turn around, making as little sound as possible, and come face to face with Lukas. He’s sleeping on his stomach, with one arm under his face. It’s the first time I’ve gotten such a close look at him. Okay, it would also have been last night. But I was too nervous then.
Right now, I’m no longer worried about my inexperience. I’ve crossed that bridge—in fact, we crossed it beautifully and with a bang.
A five o’clock shadow frames Lukas’ face. The way his chin rests on his arm, it makes the cleft on his chin more pronounced. He looks young in his sleep—younger than I’ve ever seen him.
His pink lips pucker, and I can’t believe I kissed them less than ten hours ago. In broad daylight, last night seems almost like a dream.
Thank God it wasn’t.
I mumble and Lukas’ eyelids flutter open, transitioning from the drowsy pretty boy to the daredevil Lukas Spencer. He throws off the covers and pulls a gun from the nightstand.
“What was that sound?” Lukas looks around.
“Why do you have a gun?” I ask at the same time.
“Sound, Autumn?”
“What sound?” I mutter sheepishly.
“Something like a…whine.” He looks at the gun and puts it back into the nightstand drawer, deciding a whine wasn’t a threat big enough for a gun.
My eyes graze his body, starting from his arm and to his chest, his perfect abs, and his morning wood in all its glory. That thing could put a tree trunk to shame.
Lukas tips my chin up and asks once again. “Was that you?”
My face heats up, and my cheeks burn. How do I admit that, yes, I’m the dork who couldn’t help a whimper at the sight of a naked man?
I try to shake my head, but suddenly his hand frames my chin, and his light touch tightens.
“Like what you see?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and I struggle to breathe.
Is he talking about his body or his cock? Does it even matter?
“Why are you still in bed?” I blurt.
Rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, indicating that it’s way past sunrise. In all our time in this suite, Lukas has always been up before me.
“A girl deserves to be cuddled and pampered the next morning.”
He doesn’t say the next morning after sex, because of course that’s implied. What feels strange to me is his use of a girl, instead of you or my name.
“What if the girl doesn’t like cuddling?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t like to cuddle?”
“I like cuddling just fine. I wasn’t sure about the other girls you cuddle.” I can only keep my face straight for two seconds. Soon, I’m giggling like a twelve-year-old and a slow, sexy grin spreads on Lukas’ face.
“You brat!” He pounces on me, and I fall onto the bed with him on top.
We’re still smiling, but my heartbeat has accelerated up to the highest levels.
“I was talking about only you.” He grins sheepishly, and I faintly remember he said something to me last night about…
“So what does a girl who doesn’t like cuddling want?” The cleft of Lukas’ chin stands proud.