Page 63 of Breakaway Hearts

The sight of her nearly knocks the breath out of me. How is she so stunning first thing in the morning?

I clear my throat. “How did you sleep?”

“Really good. Surprisingly good.” She sits up and stretches, and I sit up with her. “I haven’t shared a bed with anyone in a long time. Not since Austin. I hope I didn’t hog the mattress or steal the sheets or anything like that. I’m a notorious sheet-hogger, or that’s what Austin used to say. But, as we’ve come to figure out, we can’t trust a word that came out of his mouth.”

I chuckle, even as I mentally add another item to the list of reasons I want to fucking murder her ex.

“That’s right, Firefly. Besides, even if you did hog the bed or steal the sheets, I wouldn’t care.” I shoot her a suggestive look, winking. “It’d just give me an excuse to cuddle up real close with you.”

She laughs, the kind where she throws her head back, and where her whole body moves with it. My number one favorite laugh.

Fuck, the sound of it is perfect. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

Something in me stirs, heat racing through my veins. My cock was already hard when I woke up, and it pulses as even more of my blood flows downward. Before I can think about it, I reach for Callie, pulling her back down to the bed as I settle between her legs, bracing my upper body over hers.

“I know it’s early,” I murmur. “But are you in the mood for another lesson?”

She grins, looking so damn sexy I can barely stand it. “You mean lesson number three? I suppose so. I always was a diligent student.”

“Of course you were.” I chuckle. “That’s what makes you such an amazing teacher.” I drop my head, my teeth grazing her jaw. “This will all be on the test, by the way.”

Another one of my favorite laughs fills the air, and she tilts her head a little, exposing more of her neck to my wandering lips. “Oh yeah? Is that a multiple choice or short answer test?”

“It’s more of a hands on kind of test,” I reply, grinding my cock against the warm softness of her pussy through our clothes. “Sort of a practical application kind of thing.”

She groans, arching against me. “I see. Then I’d better make sure to practice a lot.”

“Exactly.” I pepper kisses along the column of her throat, then over her jaw and cheek. When I get closer to her mouth, I draw back, gazing down at her. My heart gives an unaccountable thud in my chest as I murmur, “Can I kiss you?”

The teasing grin drops from her lips, something flashing in the depths of her dark green eyes. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, then nods slowly. “Yeah. I should practice that too.”

I don’t know if she really thinks she needs practice, or if she’s just looking for an excuse like I am, but either way, I don’t question it. Instead, I lower my head and press my mouth to hers, feeling the pillowy softness of her lips against mine.

She stiffens for a second, and I can tell she’s overthinking things, probably worried that she’s doing something wrong when in fact everything she’s doing is so fuckingright. So I keep one hand braced on the bed and let the other roam over her body, sliding it up beneath her silky camisole to grope at her breast. I pinch her nipple lightly, and she gasps into my mouth, allowing me to slide my tongue between her parted lips.

Our kiss deepens, and I keep playing with her nipples, switching to the other one and then back until they’re both hard peaks.

“Fuck, Firefly,” I groan, unable to help myself. “You taste so damn good.”

She does. I don’t know how it’s possible, since it’s been hours since she brushed her teeth and fell asleep in my arms, but I swear she still tastes like Twizzlers.

Sweet as fucking candy.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, sliding her hands into my hair and dragging her nails over my scalp in a way that makes my balls tighten up.

I finally stop tormenting her nipples and slide my hand downward, reaching for the hem of her top.

“I need to get this off you,” I mutter, tugging it upward. But instead of arching her back to help me, she squirms a little beneath me until I let go of the fabric.

“Um.” She glances toward the window. “Can you close the curtains first?”

I chuckle. “We’re on the fifteenth floor. No one can see us, I promise.”

“I know, but…”

She shrugs, looking more uncomfortable than she has since that moment after we got back to the room last night. I don’t like to see this expression on her face, and there’s an immediate impulse to fix whatever it is that’s upsetting her. I glance around the room, then back at her—and suddenly, it hits me.

She wanted the lights off that first night when she proposed this friends with benefits thing, after I told her to use her vibrator on herself. And now she wants the curtains shut.

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