He lifted his head and his warm, sexy eyes caught mine. This had the result of making me catch my breath.
“You want me to make you breakfast?” he asked.
Jeez.
Seriously?
This guy could also cook?
I tested the waters.
“Are we talking instant oatmeal or eggs benedict?”
That got another lip quirk before he answered, “I was thinking croissants, eggs whatever way you want ‘em, fresh strawberries, bacon and tater tots.”
Did he say tater tots?
For breakfast?
“Did you say tater tots?” I asked in order to confirm.
“Baby.” His hips pressed into mine. I bit my lip at how good that felt and his face dipped close. “Tater tots rock breakfast.”
Ren Zano ate tater tots for breakfast and served them up to his fuck buddies.
He was a dream.
“I’m totally down for breakfast,” I answered.
At that he smiled and my world ended.
Again.
Because I wanted that smile every morning right after mind-blowing sex and right before my tater tots.
And I wanted it for a lifetime.
Don’t ask me how I knew this, I just did. Deep down, I knew it. Right to the very heart of me.
But I didn’t let on.
Again.
* * * * *
Forty-five minutes later…
“You’re right. Tater tots rock breakfast,” I said to Ren, incidentally saying it around a mouth full of ketchup-covered tater tots.
He grinned at me.
I returned the favor (closed mouthed, because food grins were gross) and looked down to my plate of food.
We were standing in his kitchen. Or he was. He’d cooked for me while I made coffee and then watched him cook. His scrambled eggs were fluffy, cheesy and delicious. His bacon was crisped to perfection. His croissants were bought fresh from a local bakery and they were buttery and amazing.
But when he offered me my filled plate and told me to take it to the dining room, I hefted my ass up on the counter and commenced eating.
This might have been rude, but I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. I accepted his apology. I accepted his body. I gave him mine. That was as far as this was going to go.
You might think I was crazy, but a man doesn’t fight over a woman, take her back, carry her from a crashed car that would eventually explode (told you the Rock Chicks were magnets for trouble—when I said trouble, I meant trouble), and speak her name in his sleep with another woman in his bed and not be hung up on her.
This was fact.
So I wasn’t going to set myself up for that kind of heartbreak. I wasn’t like Ava, blonde with lots of tits and ass. Okay, so I had some ass, but not lots of it. And I was a girl so I had tits, just not the kind of rack Ava had. I was also a brunette.
I wasn’t his type.
I was just available.
And I’d continue to be available, especially if fantastic sex came with breakfast that included tater tots.
But I was drawing that line. No doing budding couple stuff like sitting at the dining room table, eating breakfast and sharing after a night of great sex.
No, it was going to be snarfing down your delicious fluffy eggs and tater tots in an I’m-a-girl-on-the-go kind of way, then being the girl on the go by going. Then, if the spirit moved him or me, coming back for more.
The weird part of me making this non-verbal statement was that Ren didn’t push it. Instead, he watched me hop up on his counter. His eyes flashed with humor even as his lips quirked with it, and he settled his hips against the counter kitty corner from me.
But he kept his eyes on my ass on his counter in a way that told me he was currently—and would later—be thinking about my ass on his counter in a good way. This made me think about other ways my ass could be on his counter, and these were good, too.
