Page 107 of The Heartbreaker
I wasn’t sure how many hours ago that was or how much sleep I’d actually gotten, but as I glanced through the sheer blinds, taking in the variants of blue that shone through from the other side, every part of me felt satiated and rested.
“Are you awake?”
Ridge’s voice was only a hint above a whisper, mixed with that morning roughness. If I had still been asleep, it wouldn’t have woken me.
“Mmm.” I loosened the grip he had on me and rolled over to look at him. “Good morning.”
“Have you been up for long?”
I folded my arm under the pillow and puffed the down under my face to prop me up a little. “A couple of minutes. So, no, not long.” I smiled. “I was just reminiscing over last night.” I placed my hand on his cheek, the coarseness of his whiskers a welcome sensation. “Which was one of the best evenings ever.”
He turned his face to kiss the inside of my hand. “There will be many more just like that one in the future.”
Not only was he sexy and skilled, but he was also the king of word porn.
“I can’t wait,” I told him.
He pushed a piece of hair out of my eye—something he did often. “Are you hungry?”
“You’re not serious? Because after that dinner, I don’t think I can even look at food until lunchtime, and even that would be a stretch.”
“That’s too bad since there will be coffee and breakfast delivered in about”—he glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand—“thirty minutes.”
I sighed. “Coffee does sound like heaven.”
“So will breakfast when you see it.”
I leaned up even more, bending my elbow to rest my face on my palm. “What are we talking? Pancakes? Waffles? French toast?”
His stare turned more intimate, and at the same time, it intensified. “I feel like this is a challenge.”
I laughed. “Well, you nailed dinner. I’m so curious what you would choose for breakfast.”
“Do you want me to tell you your favorite pancake flavor?”
“Oh, I’m dying to hear this.”
He moved onto his back, placing his crossed arms between his head and the pillow. “If you were going to order pancakes—which you wouldn’t—you’d go with blueberry. Plain pancakes would be too sweet for you. And since you gravitate towardfruit that’s tart, I’d say blueberry would suffice. Maybe even raspberry.”
He was describing me perfectly, things I couldn’t believe he’d picked up on.
“Ridge, I’m speechless right now.”
“You think I didn’t notice what you picked out of the charcuterie board when I brought it for our first beach date?” He smiled. “And how cantaloupe and melon didn’t make an appearance when I brought that salty prosciutto the last time we were here, even though that fruit mixes amazingly well with the meat.”
“Those fruits are just so”—I felt myself making a face—“bland and boring. And, yes, I noticed.” My expression turned to a smile.
“But if given a choice, pancakes, waffles, or French toast wouldn’t be your pick. Your choice would be more savory, like a breakfast burrito with a side of grilled avocado, which will be coming on the tray that gets delivered soon.”
“Stop it.”
“And crispy home fries.”
I touched my stomach, surprised by how I suddenly no longer felt so full. “I honestly can’t even with you right now.”
He cupped the side of my neck. “How’d I do?”
“You couldn’t have done any better.” I grabbed the back of his hand and nuzzled into the front of it. “It’s such a turn-on that you know me this well. That you pay attention. And that you remember even the finer details.”
