Page 26 of Fix Me Up

She mulls this over for a moment.

Her throat bobs.

Without overthinking it, I brush the sleep mask out of my way, letting it fall to the floor so I can run my fingers through her hair.

“How well were you expecting our date to go?” She licks her lips. Inwardly, I groan.

“Not expecting,” I say. “Hoping.”

Her lashes flutter as her gaze lands on my mouth once again. “Oh. Well, that’s a different thing altogether,” she says.

Daisy tilts her head ever so slightly to the side when our noses almost touch.

Her half-whisper is shaky. “I must look like hell. I’m sure my breath?—”

She doesn’t get to finish that sentence.

All our words and thoughts float away like dandelion fluff when those full lips meet mine.

The hand at the base of her throat drags backward, possessively folding around the nape of her neck.

Her soft gasp flutters against my neck when I pull away to speak low and slow, directly against the shell of her ear. “You are perfect to me, Daisy.”

With soft kisses to her collarbone, my mouth works its way to the base of her throat. Daisy’s hands slip around my upper torso, warm and clingy and needy. Just how I want her to be with me.

She rolls her head back, letting me cover her neck with long, slow kisses.

I let go of the barstool and take a gratifying handful of her hip, luscious and full through the slippery material of her bathrobe.

The feel of her fingertips scraping and tugging at the material of my tee shirt has my cock jerking, aching to be inside her. Now.

Damn, what this woman does to me.

The barest tip of my tongue teases the skin at the valley between her collarbones. Her moans make me coil tighter and tighter. And I’m on the verge of snapping.

The collar of her bathrobe gives way. I tug at the knot at the front, and the material falls open, exposing her thin tee-shirt, her sweet little nipples jutting out.

“So fucking pretty.”

I kiss my way down the front of her shirt, low enough that one of her erect nipples pushes against my jaw, and I groan as I fight back the urge to rip this flimsy tee shirt off her. And her robe. And that criminally tiny pink thong.

“Um, Owen?” Daisy rasps.

The question in her voice gives me pause, and I pull back to meet her gaze.

“You want me to stop? We’ll stop.”

She bites her bottom lip, then says, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“I know, babe. I wouldn’t expect a doctor to go further without discussing the important stuff. My mom made sure I had condoms this time, and I got a clean bill of health.”

She smirks. “Seven years ago. I looked at your files, remember?”

I laugh.

“And I’ve got an IUD just so you know. But that’s not what I was going to talk to you about.”

“You married?”

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