Page 28 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming
“Shit, shit, shit,” she whimpers and clutches on to his shirt. “I’m about to come.”
“Wet up my hand, baby.” Ranson breathes into her ear.
Lyric tenses, then explodes in his hand. He holds her firmly against him as the last of the orgasm works its way through her. He takes her the short distance to the couch and lays her on top of him.
“Do you want to stay over?” Lyric asks.
“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses her forehead.
Shit, now I never want to leave.
6
LYRIC
Lyric wakes up to the smell of sausage, pancakes and coffee.
Did this man…?Did he make me breakfast?
She looks at the other side of her bed when she remembers Ranson insisted on sleeping in one of her spare rooms. Since she was wiped out after their encounter by the door, he didn’t want to crowd her. She didn’t protest because she needed room to think about what happened between them. What did it mean? Clearly, there’s an attraction between them, but it’s too soon to call it anything real.
Funny you’re saying thatafteryou let the man stay at your house.
“Shut up, brain,” Lyric mumbles.
She gets out of bed and heads straight to the kitchen, even before washing her face and removing her bonnet. Ranson has on a T-shirt and a pair of sweats, courtesy of his assistant who brought him an overnight bag last night. He’s wearing ear buds as he plates the sausage. He must feel her watching behind him because he turns around and smiles.
The man is way too fine to be real.
He stares at her for a minute, his eyes warm and dreamy with his heart-melting smile intact. He finally removes the ear buds. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t take them out sooner. My favorite part of the song came on, and I wanted to hear the lyrics while I looked at you.”
“What song are you listening to?”
“Irisby the Goo Goo Dolls.”
“What part of the song were you on?”
“The part about you being the closest to heaven.”
“The song’s not about me. I was fourteen when it came out.”
He shrugs. “I was eight. And it is about you, at least it is to me.”
Lyric looks down, her face flushing.
“No, no, no. Look up and let me see you,” Ranson says.
She looks up with a heated face and meets his heated gaze. “Stop staring at me like that!” She giggles.
Jesus, I’m actually giggling like a schoolgirl around this man.
He chuckles. “It’s cool, you give me butterflies, too. As a matter of fact, MJ’s version makes me think of you as well.”
She takes a seat at the kitchen island, and he gives her a plate with a mug of coffee and a glass of tangerine juice. She digs in. He makes his plate, gets his juice and joins her.
“Do you want to talk about last night?” Lyric asks.
“Sure, are you okay with what happened?”
