“Technically, last night, yourbossfuckedyou. Not the other way around,” I correct her.

“Same thing. Oh god… seriously, Nathan, what are we doing?”

“Breakfast. We need food. I’ll cook.” I slide out from underneath her. It’s not that I don’t want to address her question. It’s just that I don’t want to address it right now.

“Are you going to make that French toast from last weekend?” she asks.

“I’ll make whatever you desire, baby girl.” I lean down, capturing her lips in mine again and letting my tongue slip through her mouth briefly before I force myself to pull away.

“Thank you,” she says.

Winking at her, I pick up a pair of sweats from the closet and then head out to the kitchen to make her the best French toast she’s ever going to have. I’m plating up the food when Bentley walks out wearing one of my shirts. I freeze, the frying pan midair as my eyes trail from her bare feet, along her legs, and farther up. Her nipples are hard, poking through white cotton.

“That shirt has never looked so fucking good,” I tell her. “Sit down.” I place a plate piled high of French toast on the dining room table. I’ve already set out whipped cream, ice cream, and a bowl of mixed berries.

“This smells so good,” Bentley says as she lowers herself to her seat.

“Nowhere near as good as you do.” I lean down and sniff her neck, before kissing that spot right behind her ear. I sit beside her and wait for Bentley to fill her plate before I load up my own. “You know, this is nice,” I say.

“What is?”

“Having you here, waking up next to you. We should make it a more permanent thing. I can clear out some closet space for you.”

Bentley chokes on her food as her hand shoots out for the glass of orange juice. Taking a big gulp, she stares at me withwide eyes. “No. You can’t just spring shit like that on a girl, Nathan.”

“Shit like what?”

“You just asked me to move in with you.”

“Technically, the wordsmove innever left my mouth. I just said you could leave your clothes here. And sleep here. And wake up here. And spend your free time here. And?—”

She cuts me off mid-list. “Really, that’s the very definition of moving in.”

“So that’s anothen? What if I counter with an offer of multiple orgasms. Every day.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down. The sound of her laughter fills my usually quiet space. I like it. Way too fucking much.

“Tempting,” she says. “But I think I’ll hold out. You never know when a better offer could be just around the corner.” She grins at me.

“You’re a tough negotiator, Miss Johnson. It’s a good thing you’re focusing on corporate law. You’ll do well.”

Her face reddens at my compliment and she casts her eyes to the floor.

“You know, I don’t say these things to get into your panties. I’m already in them. If I thought you were a shit attorney, I’d tell you. But, thankfully for both of us, you’re not shit.”

“Well, thanks,” she says, taking another bite of her food. “But, seriously, what are we?” Her fork points from me to her.

“You want a label?”

“I don’t know. I don’t need a label. But I need… something.”

“You want to be my girlfriend, Bentley Johnson? You want to go steady with me?” I ask her with a raised brow and a smirk.

“Steady with you? Geez, how old are you? Actually, how oldare you?” she repeats her question.

“I’m not old,” I tell her.

“How old, Nathan?”

“Thirty-three.”