Page 19 of Not a Perfect Save

He’s naked. Then I’m naked.

And then he is touching me, and I am stroking him back. A confetti of pompoms and mini-donuts swirl around us.

This time when I wake,it’s in stages. Dusk has been replaced by the artificial glow of streetlamps bouncing off the surrounding buildings, occasionally mingling with headlights and the blaring evening traffic. I wipe the sleep from my eyes. My head’s a little better, and so is my foot.

Right then, the scent of something delicious wafts through the door. But the relief that hits me is due to more than the scent of food.He’s still here.

My nose guides me to the kitchen. Connor is bent over to deposit something in the oven. His suit jacket is off, draped over one of the counter stools, and his pants are stretched tight over a perfect butt.

Some noise must escape me because he turns. Of course, he catches me ogling. He raises his eyebrows and his lips quirk.

“Yes?” he drawls out.

Busted. Heat flares in my cheeks, but I say, “I was just objectifying you. You know very well how pretty you are. You must be used to it.” Nothing is a better offense than the truth.

His mouth stretches into a full-on grin. “Is that so?”

My gaze wanders the room. The apartment is neater than it’s been in weeks. Even the dishes are done. “Mm-hmm.”

His full laugh draws my eyes back to his face. There’s a slight stubble on his chin, highlighting the chiseled angle of his jaw. His golden hair is no longer neat, as if he’s raked his fingers through it more than once. I’m tempted to reach out and stroke it, see if it is as soft as it looks.

“Did you sleep well?” Connor asks, contemplating me in return. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “Your foot okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” I repeat, still not in full control of my faculties.

He must be able to read my thoughts, because his next words are, “Dream of me?” He obviously doesn’t hate the idea, his eyes blaze, tracing my body with his gaze, maybe he’s been fantasizing about me too?

“Maybe,” I tease, breathless when he pauses, just a second too long on my breasts. Minnie’s ears don’t cover my nipples appropriately, and they harden at his look. We’re definitely not in PG-land anymore.

I whimper and his eyes return to mine, vastly entertained. But when he speaks, his voice is low and throaty. “What am I wearing in your fantasy? Or am I naked?” A smirk pulls at his lips.

Oh, that smug…“Of course not. You’re in little Boy Scout shorts with a red bandana tied around your neck.” There’s honest, and there’shonest.

“In your dreams.”

“That’s what I just said. It’s like you don’t pay attention.” I say, cheekily.

Blue eyes run over me again. “I pay plenty attention.” Maybe he does. But I’m not sure he knows what to make of me. Is he entertaining fantasies of his own? My face reddens, and I clear my throat.

Connor’s grin widens. “Hmm. So am I taking the neckerchief off quickly or slowly?”

I ignore him because if we keep going down this path, I’ll be ripping his clothes off for real. I’m feeling a little too feral right now. “Not telling.”

The oven beeps. Thankfully, he doesn’t continue our conversation and turns back to the counter to finish whatever it is he was doing. It’s clear he knows his way around the kitchen. I am envious. The best I can do is put a pop tart in a toaster. Definitely an All-American Boy Scout who can probably make knots in his sleep and build a fire with two toothpicks.

“Where did you get the stuff? I know I didn’t have it here,” I say.

“I borrowed your keys to get some groceries. Hope you don’t mind.”

In any other situation, I would, but given that he took them in service of meandhe cleaned my little pigsty, it would be churlish to say I mind.

“No.”

There’s more stuff in the paper bag propped on the table, and I hobble over. Lucky for me, my matchbox-sized apartment includes plenty of walls to brace myself against. I peek inside because I’m Miss Nosy.

At first glance, there’s nothing exciting in the bag. Advil, milk—the brand I normally buy. Dear god, is that—

My eyes snap up. “You bought bacon?”

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