Ain’t Misbehaving

on cream.

She was a sprawler, he’d discovered. During the night, she’d kicked off the covers and then twined around him for warmth. Every time he covered her, she just kicked off the blankets and gravitated toward him again.

At the moment, she was wearing a black half-slip, scarlet bikini panties, and the comforter. The sheet had disappeared hours before. The last time he’d tugged the comforter around her chin, the slip was wound around her waist and her bare breasts were trying to nuzzle against him. If that wasn’t enough to deprive a man of rest, the feel of her long slim leg tucked between his…

He hadn’t slept much.

“Mitch?” Sleepily, Kay’s eyes opened to discover Mitch propped up on one elbow, his eyes inches from her own. She smiled groggily. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Watching you wake up,” he murmured.

“That’s no fun.”

“That’s how much you know.” It would be so easy to reach under the covers, to stroke that warm, silken skin as he’d stroked it in the night. So easy to take her… She stretched sleepily, like a wanton cat, her eyes moody with sleep and her smile unbearably seductive. Easy to make love to her?

His body informed him that it was criminal not to. His head knew exactly what body part went where. That aspect of it wasn’t a problem. It was doing it right, pleasing her, the fear he’d damn well rush like hell, hurt her, not love her well…not love her the way he wanted to. That he’d disappoint her…

So, his hand slipped over rather than under the covers, over the curl of her shoulder and into her hair. He leaned toward her, and his lips touched her forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, but a craving to know what her sleep- warmed skin felt like. “You need,” he murmured, “blueberry muffins.”

“Pardon?”

“Muffins.”

She shook her head. Surely, that look in his eye would lead to a caress-but he vaulted most determinedly out of bed.

She noted that he’d slept in a T-shirt and Jockey shorts-undoubtedly in deference to her virtue. Darn lucky for his virtue that he wasn’t still within arm’s reach. The Jockey shorts really didn’t fit very well in the condition he was in. But she probably wasn’t supposed to notice that-he’d turned away as quickly as he could.

Still, she noted with approval that he wasn’t overly self-conscious about his body. He certainly shouldn’t be. He had an honest ripple of muscle in his shoulders, a flat, taut stomach and hard, smooth legs. Also, a flat little fanny that made her smile. The man was pure male, built on neat, strong lines, just the one bulge exactly where it should be and the rest physically fit without making a big deal out of it. At the moment, she was inclined to make a big deal out of it, and wished he’d get back in bed.

“Mr. Cochran?”

He tugged on a velour robe, glancing up as he belted it. “You just stay right there. I’ll bring up some coffee and muffins.”

He brought back the coffee and muffins and watched her strew crumbs from one end of the bed to the other as she waved a muffin around while she talked. The pillows were plumped up behind her, and the comforter tucked under her arms provided only the barest protection for his sanity.

“I can’t believe you can make muffins like this!” she exclaimed. “Heavens, if I thought I could get breakfast in bed every morning, I’d marry you, Cochran.”

“It’s just amazing what a woman will say when she’s exhausted. And you certainly should be. You did calisthenics all night, kicking and thrashing around.”

Kay hastily swallowed. “Did I keep you up?” she asked guiltily.

“Once I had you pinned down so you couldn’t move, I slept just fine,” he lied.

“So you’re that kind, Cochran.” Kay nodded sagely

“That kind?”

Kay waved her hands expressively as she reached for another muffin. “Bondage,” she clarified.

“I should have thought of that last night,” Mitch said thoughtfully.

Kay chuckled. “I’ve been accused of being trouble to sleep with before.”

“Have you?”

“Don’t come to any dirty conclusions, Cochran. I shared a double bed with my little sister until she whined for my parents to get us twin beds.” She cocked her head, licking a smidgen of blueberry from her finger. “Was I really that much trouble?”

“I’m still alive,” he assured her, “but barely.” The only thing in his head was dirty conclusions. Other men who’d covered her up. Other men who’d had the right to. He reached over to flick a crumb from her chin, his touch so gentle she could barely feel it, his head filled with not so gentle thoughts about murdering any other man who touched her.

“Mitch.” She reached for a napkin, and the comforter slipped to reveal every damn curve. “You’re being remiss as host,” she said teasingly.

“Pardon?” He forced his eyes up.

“A spare toothbrush,” she suggested mildly. “A comb. A little soap. It’s going to be bad enough going home looking like a bag lady, with saggy hose and wrinkled outfit and straggly hair. But I have a sneaky feeling that there are mascara smudges under my eyes-”

“There are,” he affirmed. He liked them. Actually, he was fascinated by them. Her makeup had begun to wear off before they’d gone to bed; he’d been intrigued by that process in itself. The flawless matte finish had gradually eroded to reveal a trace of freckles across her nose. Obviously, she was sensitive about them. But he couldn’t imagine why she wore the mascara; her lashes were already thick and soft, and those tiny flickers of black on her cheeks somehow made her look incredibly vulnerable.

He loved waking up with her. She was natural and easy and woke up in good humor, ready to start a day she already knew would be good. How could it not be good? She was in it.

***

Kay loved waking up with him. She’d been afraid it would be uncomfortable, awkward. It could have been-with some men.

But not with Mitch. Sex or no sex, there was a delicious feeling of intimacy between them this morning. There was laughter when he draped his robe around her, and more laughter as he stood gravely in the bathroom doorway long enough to “find out whether you squeeze the toothpaste in the middle.”

The kitchen looked post-bomb-squad after his simple exercise of making muffins. Mitch seemed startled at the mess he’d made, and his expression made her laugh again. She puttered around, cleaning up, because she liked puttering in the morning, while Mitch glared at her over his coffee cup, because by that time in the morning he obviously liked his cup of coffee, but he didn’t like the idea of her cleaning up his mess.

She didn’t like the idea of going home. He didn’t like the idea either, but she didn’t realize that until they were in the car and he pinned her down at every stop sign for a kiss. The kisses were getting disgracefully long by the time they arrived at her door.

He claimed she tasted good, and that he was hungry. He hadn’t had any breakfast; she’d eaten all of the blueberry muffins.

She would have to serve him breakfast, lunch and dinner, if he’d come inside with her.

But he left her on the doorstep.

***

“Kay?” Stix gave the front door a token knock-once he’d opened it and was already inside.

Lying on the carpet with a book in her hand, Kay garbled an “over here!” through a mouthful of apple.

“I can’t see anything but your feet,” Stix said with amusement. Her bare feet were propped up on the sofa. When Stix peered around the couch, he just shook his head. “You can’t be comfortable.”