Page 31 of Hothead

Went to grab us breakfast, angel, be back soon.

Shit. She needed to make herself human before he returned. Which could be any moment. The thought was enough to propel her out of bed and into his bathroom.

I wonder if Luke will mind if I use his shower. And his shower products. Maybe steal a T-shirt?

There was only one way to find out.

CHAPTER NINE

Luke had been the perfectgentleman. He was actually pretty damn proud of himself. As soon as they’d left the bar last night, all flirtatious banter had ceased, and his sole mission had been to make sure Bella had enough water to drink and got safely tucked into bed.

Yes, technically it had been his bed. But it wasn’t his fault he wanted to keep an eye on her. What if she needed to hurl in the night? She could have choked on her own vomit. He was just being a responsible citizen.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, man.

He also might have been in the bed with her. Again, not his fault. Bella had refused to let him leave and had even dragged him down onto the bed and insisted they snuggle. And whenever he tried to get up to leave, she whined so loud he was afraid she’d wake the neighbors. So he’d spent the whole night with her sexy body curled up in his chest. Breathing in wild berries and willing his hard-on down. Like a gentleman of course.

Now here he was, plating up muffins he’d picked up from Fairy Baked for her and getting ready to take them upstairs. All so Bella could enjoy breakfast in bed.

What has she turned you into, man?

The truth was, this past week, he hardly recognized himself. Not ever in his life had a woman had him so twisted. He’d never once wondered what a woman was doing or how she was feeling, and yet, now, that was all he could think about.Shewas all he could think about. And had been ever since the first day he’d met her, when she’d swayed that sexy ass of hers out of the fire station.

You’re in way over your head.

He was. He was reminded of that a second later when Bella stepped foot in his kitchen. In his Woodvalley Fire Department shirt. Just his shirt.

Jesus Christ.

“Oh, hey.” She bit down on her lower lip as her steps faltered.

Thankfully, he managed to push out the “hey” momentarily stuck in his throat. How could she look even better than last night? How was it possible? There wasn’t an inch of makeup on her face, her hair was wet and sticking to her cheeks, and his shirt drowned her. And still, here he was, finding it hard to breathe.

“Are those muffins?” she broke the silence, her eyes darting to the plate in his hands.

Clearing his throat, he managed to draw in some much-needed air. “Uh, yeah. And coffee.” The cup in his hand stretched out as he watched her hesitantly walk toward it.

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