Page 265 of Coach
Couldn’t know.
Shane wasn’t Mr. Open Communication, and I wasn’t naïve enough to think one incredible night erased years of walls and guarded hearts.
But I knew one thing, one thing that scared me more than all the rest.
Iwantedto know.
I wanted more.
More moments like this.
More mornings waking up in his bed.
More of that low, rough voice telling me things he probably didn’t even realize he was brave enough tosay.
And I wanted to be the one he said them to.
A small smile tugged at my lips as I nestled a little closer, content to soak in the warmth for just a little while longer, content to give myself to the man who’d claimed me, if only for the moment.
I must’ve dozed off, because some time later, my eyes fluttered open again to find Shane propped up on an elbow staring down at me. There was no expression on his face, none whatsoever.
Then he spoke one word, a rasp of smoke and grinding gears that made me want to jump atop him again.
“Morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied, bleariness blurring my words.
He reached down with his off-hand and moved a lock of hair from my forehead. I wondered if he knew how intimate the gesture felt . . . if he felt it, too.
“Hungry?” he asked.
I choked back the thousands of questions beggingto be asked and nodded. “Starving.”
“Why don’t I make us breakfast? How do you like your coffee?”
I smiled. “I’m Italian. I like my coffee like I like my men: black and deep inside me.”
His eyes popped wide, and I lost my composure, a waterfall of laughter flowing out of my mouth.
Shane shoved my shoulder, and I caught a hint of a smile turning the corners of his eyes upward.
“Asshole,” he said with no heat. “I’ll get started. Take your time. There’s an extra toothbrush in the top drawer, if you’d like to freshen up a bit.”
My brows rose.
“What?”
“Did the mountain man just ask me if I wanted to freshen up?”
He shoved me again. “You’re lippy this morning.”
I bared my teeth. “What are you going to do about it?”
He choked out a laugh and shook his head. “Make breakfast. Get your lippy mouth in order and meet me in the kitchen. Just follow the smell if you can’t remember where it is.”
“Yes, sir, rustic commander, sir.”
With a meaty paw on each shoulder, he pressed me into his mattress, then leaned down and planted a kiss on my lips. It was soft, gentle, unlike thepassionate, ravenous kisses from the night before. It was . . . intimate.
