“Oh.” She stepped closer to me, smiling coyly. “I was going to get a cab to your place after we’ve had dinner.”

I paused. I didn’t even need to think about that, to be honest.

I stuffed her underwear in my pocket with a nod. “Shall I leave the door unlocked or do you want to keep that key?”

She grinned. “You’ve got my underwear. I’ll keep your key. Look at that—a booty call you don’t even have to get out of bed for.”

I grabbed her and pulled her into me before kissing her firmly. “You’re no booty call, Reagan.”

Our eyes met, and her smile softened. “Shall I bring anything with me?”

“Yes. A toothbrush.”

“Why a toothbrush?”

“Your panties are in my pocket. A toothbrush seems like a logical step.”

She fell into me, burying her face in my neck as she laughed. “Now that I’ll carry around in my purse.”

***

I didn’t know how Reagan liked her coffee.

I didn’t know if she even liked coffee.

She had to like coffee. Even though I’d never seen her in the morning, she struck me as the kind of person who needed coffee to function.

How she took it, though… that was a mystery.

I poured a cup of it black, then put sugar and creamer with the mug on a tray. I added a bottle of water and a strip of aspirin and headed for the stairs. She’d still been asleep when I came down here, but it was nearly ten now, and I wanted to wake her up.

I wanted to know how much she remembered of last night.

And if she didn’t remember a lot, I had pictures.

I nudged the bedroom door open with my hip and peered inside. She was lying on her side, snuggled with the covers up to her chin. Her hair was a curly mess that was spread across the pillows, and her lips were parted as she gently breathed in and out.

It was creepy to watch her sleep. I knew that. But I also knew she probably had a marching band in her head, and any peace she felt right now would disappear the second she woke up.

I set the tray on top of my dresser and perched on the edge of the bed. She was so fucking beautiful. She looked like she belonged in my bed, sleeping or otherwise.

The way I felt about Reagan was overwhelming. She’d wormed her way into my life and now into my heart, and while this was all still new and we hadn’t actually spoken about anything other than sex and one date, I did know one thing.

I didn’t want to let her go.

I wanted to keep hold of her to see where this went.

“Stop staring at me,” Reagan muttered, rolling onto her back. “Oh, Jesus Christ. My mouth feels like Ghandi’s flipflop.”

“Ghandi’s flipflop, huh? That’s a new one.”

She propped herself up on one elbow and rubbed her eyes. “Do you have any water in here?”