Page 110 of Donovan's Men

Hamish curled into a ball and buried his face under the blanket.

Tyson chuckled, wrapped an arm around me from behind, and pressed another kiss to my shoulder. “You take the master bathroom, and I’ll head to the spare. Meet you in the kitchen?”

“I thought we could crawl back into bed and have our wicked way with him.”

“You did a number on him last night—physically and emotionally. Let the boy rest.”

“Boy?” I snickered. “He’s older than both of us.”

“Not by much. And yeah,boymight be insensitive. How’sformer virgin?”

“Only marginally better.” I glanced over. “You think I went too hard?”

Tyson’s snicker was at the same decibel as our whispers. “No. I think he rode you just right. But he’s liable to be sore. For you, or for me, he’d be willing to go again. I say he needs rest. He was also pretty restless during the night.”

I rubbed my face. “Last night? God, I was dead to the world.”

“I don’t know if it’s because he’s not used to sharing his bed or, more likely, the whole disciplinary thing.”

“Or he might just be a restless sleeper. My sister—”

Fuck.

I hadn’t meant to say that. Remembering how she used to kick me and leave bruises when we shared a bed was a memory that both soothed and tortured me. We’d been innocent kids. The growing-up part had been the shittiest.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Tyson scratched his scalp. “Of course I don’t—”

“Not anymore. I have to piss.” Before he could respond, I headed to the bathroom. Only as I relieved myself did I realize I should’ve brought my clothes.Oh well. I brushed my teeth again and borrowed Hamish’s deodorant. Seriously, coming here without my go bag ranked among the most amateur of mistakes. I never left home without everything I might need.Guess I was really eager to get here.

After having assured myself I was somewhat acceptable for company, I crept out of the bathroom.

To find Hamish, in his bathrobe, holding my clothes. “I remembered to put them in the dryer. They’re nice and fresh.”

I eyed him. “When did you remember?”

He yawned. “About three.”

I snagged the back of his neck and yanked him in for a hard kiss.

He startled, then settled as I held him against me.

When I finally let him go, I scowled. “Don’t do that again, okay? I would’ve managed.”

“But now you don’t have to.” He clearly attempted to give me a haughty expression.

I suppressed the laugh—but I nearly blew it because, frankly, my heart wasn’t in it. “Get dressed. I’m starving.”

“Do you want leftovers or something fresh? I have eggs, toast, waffles—”

I swatted his ass again as I passed him. “I’m making breakfast. Hurry up.”

By the time I dressed and reached the kitchen, Tyson was there putting on the coffee and he had the kettle on to boil.

I headed to the fridge. “Eggs okay? Or I could make pancakes or oatmeal?”

He shuddered. “I eat oatmeal when I’m on duty. When I’m on break, I’ll happily enjoy anything but.”

“Fair enough.” I scouted Hamish’s fridge. “I can do eggs, bacon, toast, and sliced tomatoes.”