Olivia blinked at the light streaming through the windows. She’d slept later than usual, even for a Saturday, but she’d gone out with Sadie the night before. She’d intended only to meet her friend for a drink, but Sadie had wanted to go dancing, and four hours later she’d let herself into the house with sore thighs and abs that ached from laughing.

If she hadn’t had to go to bed alone, it might have been a perfect evening. But Cade was still in Austin, and wasn’t due back until Sunday morning, so she’d pulled one of his T-shirts out of the hamper and worn it to bed, just so she could smell him.

She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep—hello, Saturday—but gave up with a sigh only after a few moments. Her bladder knew she was awake and was demanding attention, so she slid out of bed and yawned her way into the bathroom. She managed to do her business with her eyes mostly closed, not wanting to wake up any more than she had to, and was already back in bed when she realized it wasn’t empty.

“Morning,” Cade rumbled when she squeaked in surprise, and skimmed his mouth over her cheek to nuzzle behind her ear.

“What are you doing here?” she gasped.

“I live here, remember?” he mumbled into her neck, and angled his head to nibble her collarbones.

“I thought you weren’t coming in until tomorrow,” she sighed, arching her neck to give him more room.

“Change in plans.” He slid his tongue under the collar of her shirt, then pulled back to frown. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“I got cold,” she explained, sliding closer and hooking one leg over his hip. He was naked, his skin warm and smooth against hers. This was a much nicer way to wake up, she thought dreamily, and did her best to burrow into him.

His hands slid under the hem of the T-shirt to stroke over her bare ass, his hands rough on her skin. “You don’t feel cold to me.”

“Because I’m wearing your shirt,” she breathed. She lifted her head, seeking his mouth, and sighed when he gave it to her.

The kiss was slow and deep, a sleepy exploration that was no less devastating for its languidness. His kisses were usually marked by a desperation bordering on violence, as those were the kinds of games they enjoyed playing. Sometimes he was playful and teasing, and outside of a scene he was often tender. But this kiss was like being slowly devoured and absorbed, as though he wanted to suck out her very soul. It demanded her utter and complete surrender, and she gave it without hesitation.