Page 82 of Matthew
It wasn’t.
Her body ached in the best possible way, and her heart? Well, that was another story entirely, because somewherebetween the kiss he’d given her at the nursery and the way he’d touched her as if she meant something—everything—Callie had stopped pretending this was temporary.
She was in trouble. The good kind. The forever kind.
Matthew stirred beneath her, his voice low and rough with sleep. “You watching me?”
“Maybe.” She smirked, not bothering to deny it. “You snore, by the way.”
“Lies,” he murmured, eyes still closed as his hand skimmed down her bare back. “I breathe with authority.”
A quiet laugh escaped her before she propped herself on one elbow and brushed the hair off his forehead. “You okay?”
He opened his eyes then, slow, warm, and fully focused on her. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now. “Absolutely. You?”
Callie stared at him, heart pounding harder than it should’ve, then whispered, “Me too.”
She settled back down, and they stayed there for a few minutes, wrapped in silence and each other.
Until her stomach growled. Loudly.
Matthew grinned. “Guess that means round two is postponed until after breakfast?”
She groaned and flopped back against the pillow. “Don’t tempt me with pancakes and promises.”
His brows lifted. “You have pancakes?”
“No, but I have coffee. And bread. And the tiniest bit of self-control left.”
Matthew leaned over, kissed her shoulder, and murmured against her skin, “Challenge accepted.”
***
Ahalf hour later, after Matthew proved she had zero self-control where he was concerned, they were freshly satiated, showered, and dressed for the day.
Callie padded barefoot into the kitchen, still towel-drying her hair when Sammy trotted in from the backyard through his doggy door, tail wagging and tennis ball in his mouth as if he'd missed them for days instead of hours.
Matthew bent to greet him with a scratch behind the ears. “You keeping watch while we overslept, buddy?”
Sammy dropped the ball at his feet, clearly unimpressed with their priorities.
Callie smirked. “He’s judging us.”
“Probably earned it,” Matthew said, tossing the ball once before catching it again. “Coffee?”
“In progress.” Callie crossed to the counter, scooped grounds into the filter, and hit the start button with a yawn. “You get morning sass once the caffeine’s brewed.”
Sammy let out a hopeful bark behind them.
“And you get breakfast now,” she added, grabbing his bowl and filling it with kibble. The Golden Retriever pranced in place, and you’d swear she was handing him a T-bone steak.
Matthew leaned against the doorframe, watching her with an expression that softened everything inside her. “You’re good at this,” he said.
She glanced up, a brow raised. “Making coffee?”
“Being someone people want to come home to.”
The comment caught her off guard. Her breath snagged in her throat as their eyes locked.
