Blame It On Paris
“It wasn’t the first meal Will had brought back to bed. This time he made melted cheese sandwiches, and carted them in with chips and cookies.She laughed, knowing they were going to sleep with crumbs, not caring any more than he did. Still, something was different when she woke up this time.It was as if, in the past twenty-four hours, she’d been Will-drugged. Still was, when he carried in the tray, buck naked. The man didn’t have a modest bone in his entire long, strong, deliciously male body. But suddenly she felt different. Different enough to tuck the sheet securely under her arms. It seemed silly, when he’d obviously seen every inch of her body in exquisite, thorough detail, but somehow she felt the odd need to hide all the love bites and nuzzle marks he’d left.He plunked down beside her and they dove into their makeshift meal. She didn’t try talking until she’d devoured a second sandwich, but after that, she swiftly ducked under the sheet, pulled up his fluffy comforter and snuggl...ed into the pillow.“Will…”MoreLess
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