Page 130 of One and Only

“The bossiest,” he whispered, sliding his hand over my face to kiss me again. “I love it.”

“Do you?” I traced the bottom of my lip as he stared at me, his eyes soft and adoring.

Beckett nodded. “I kinda love her too.”

My heart swelled, impossibly big in my chest. This was my life now. This was my life with him, and it could only keep getting better, no matter what we’d have to face together.

Because that was the point.

We’d have each other.

There were no battles I had to face alone, no problems I’d face without him at my side.

I kissed him, lingering and sweet, my arm wrapping around his back, my chest pressed so tightly to his that I could feel the steady thumping of his heart.

“Do you love her enough to be the one to get up and make the coffee?”

He smiled, stealing another soft kiss. “Yeah.”

“Maybe make a full pot.”

His smile grew. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said.

I drew back. “What do you mean? Did you magically get extra sleep that I don’t know about?”

He shook his head. “No. I just hate coffee.”

My mouth fell open. “You…what?”

Beckett sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, soothing it with his tongue when he released it. “Don’t drink coffee,” he answered matter-of-factly.

I sat up and stared down at him. “You don’t drink coffee?” I repeated.

He wedged his hands behind his head. “Nope.”

“But…”

Beckett sat up and laid a hard kiss on my gaping mouth. “I had this gorgeous woman living in my house, and I wanted to do something nice for her. That’s all.”

And just like that, he started to climb out of bed, giving me a brief glimpse of his perfectly biteable ass before he tugged his boxer briefs back up over his waist.

That’s all,he said.

“How dare he,” I mumbled, flinging the covers off and marching after him.

Beckett had his back to me when I stalked into the kitchen, turning just as I got to him. He was laughing as I leaped at him, winding my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and he dropped me onto the island while his tongue twined through mine.

When I pulled away, I rolled my forehead against his, our noses brushing lightly. “You made me coffee every morning,” I said. “You set out my favorite mug. Every day.”

His smile was gentle, his eyes bright. “Yeah. I think maybe I was falling in love with you a bit earlier than I was willing to admit.”

I exhaled a wondrous laugh. I cupped his face in my hands. “Beckett Coleman,” I whispered. “You are the perfect man.”

“Because I made you coffee?” he asked.

I shook my head with a laugh. “No. Because I didn’t even know how to dream you up. You’re better than … everything.”

He wrapped me tight in his arms with a happy sigh, pressing a kiss to my temple. We sat like that while the smell of coffee filled the kitchen.

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