I have twelve alarm clocks that go off three minutes apart starting from 4:55 a.m. and lasting all the way to 5:31 a.m. Asher loses it after the fourth, which is how I find myself pinned underneath him as he rips my phone off the nightstand, powering it off in a bleary-eyed rage. I’m half awake, but still manage to moan sleepily as his body presses mine into the mattress. Good morning to me.

“You have this many alarms that go off this early and you’re still late for work?”

He flops back over to his side and I’m annoyed that he takes all the warmth with him. He can’t just bury me in his body heat and then roll away, leaving me shivering and cold. It’s rude.

“A lot of time and effort goes into making me look hot.” I shuffle through the sheets to get close to him, slipping my hand over his stomach and entwining my legs with his. I use his chest as a pillow.

“C’mon, no cuddling.”

“Says the man who hasn’t stopped touching me since we got into bed.”

“You’re so clingy,” he says. “When’s the last time you shaved your legs?”

“When’s the last time you shaved yours?” I giggle and brush my calf against his. “Stop pretending you don’t love this.”

“I don’t.”

The circles he’s tracing over my back say otherwise.

“You know… I don’t understand the point of being in a fake relationship if I’m not getting any benefits.”

“And what sort of benefits are you looking for, Ms. Langley? Medical? Dental? 401k? Pension?”

“Cuddling, for one. And it wouldn’t kill you to tell me I’m pretty. And maybe kiss me once in a while. And, y’know, other stuff.”

“What kind of other stuff?”

“You’re a smart man. I shouldn’t have to tell you,” I say. “But sadly, this little tryst must end. I have to trudge through two feet of snow to get a double-toasted cinnamon raisin bagel with extra cream cheese for my tyrant of a boss.”

“He sounds awful.”

“He’s terrible,” I say. “Devilishly handsome but terrible.”

Asher’s fingers toy with the waistband of my underwear, drawing out a pleasant hum from me. He has exceptionally bad timing if he wants an early morning romp.

Thankfully my boss will be very understanding when I show up an hour late looking completely ravished.

“They’re not opening the office,” he finally says. “We’re working from home today.”

That might be the hottest thing he’s ever said to me.

“Does that mean I can go back to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Does it also mean you’ll make me pancakes?”

“Only if you do the dishes.”

I curl into him. “I don’t make deals with the devil.”

“And I don’t make pancakes for girls with sandpaper legs.”