“Morning, sleepyhead.” Constantine was seated at the breakfast bar when I wandered into the kitchen. He set his phone aside and stood, a handsome smile crossing his mouth when I barefooted my way over to him, still in my pajamas.

“You should’ve”—a yawn broke through my attempt to say good morning—“woken me up.” It was already after nine, and I had a feeling he’d typically be at work by now if it weren’t for me sleeping in.

“As I recall, I did wake you. Two hours ago.” He lifted his brows twice, smirking.

Seven o’clock in the morning. The time I should’ve been coming home from the hospital.

But I’d decided to hang up my scrubs for now and spend time being a wife and mom. After working my ass off for the last seventeen years, I supposed I deserved a break.

“That was for delicious and incredible sex.” My body warmed at the memory, already turned on again. “You let me fall back asleep after riding out my orgasm on . . .” My gaze flicked to his pants, and his dick twitched.

“Of course I did. You need your sleep.” He adjusted his dark tie beneath his tailored suit jacket and buttoned it.

“But based on how you’re dressed in all that boardroom black, looking lethal, I take it you have to go to the office?” I pouted.

“Boardroom black, huh?” He reached for my waist, drawing me closer. “I do have a meeting. One quick one. I’ll be back by the time the other two sleepyheads wake up. We’ll get brunch together.” He nuzzled his nose against mine before softly kissing me.

“I’d love that.” The words rolled between us, and he caught them with his tongue, kissing me more passionately that time. “How come jet lag isn’t kicking your butt the way it is mine?” I asked after he parted his lips from mine, my soft sigh settling between us.

“Just takes some getting used to.” He nipped my bottom lip before lifting his eyes to mine. “This, however, won’t take me any getting used to. Waking up with you here is how I want to spend every morning for the rest of my life.”

I smiled. “That can be arranged.” Glancing up at the ceiling toward Colin’s room, I asked, “We’re not bad parents by letting them play hooky another day, right?”

It was Tuesday, and they were supposed to start their new school yesterday, but reality caught up with us when we made it home late Sunday after midnight. As in, there was no chance the two of them would be able to roll out of bed and make it to school on Monday, or today, which was why I hadn’t set an alarm.

“Bad parents? Nah, we’re the best. Don’t take my word for it.” He playfully winked. “Colin’s.”