Page 110 of Sexting His Assistant

“What? I’m being helpful.”

“You are jealous.”

I stiffen. “I’m naked and letting you fuck me sideways. Choose your accusations carefully.”

He actually laughs.

Low, brief, rough, gone quickly because it pulls at his shoulder and makes him wince. I immediately soften despite myself.

“See? Idiot,” I say, touching the side of his face.

“Worth it.”

“Don’t be charming. I’m mad at you.”

“I know.”

He kisses me gently, and that kiss nearly derails the entire conversation. He makes a strange, choked sob and comes inside of me. I feel him gushing inside of me, and the throb makes me come hard. I squeeze him slightly as I ride the wave.

He pulls out carefully and looks down. The condom broke.

“It’s okay, I’ll take a morning after,” I tell him.

He doesn’t reply, and I don’t give him a chance to.

I pull my sweater back on and brush my teeth before bringing him some breakfast.

“I’m not an invalid,” he protests.

“Just shut up for a minute,” I say.

He looks at me over the edge of my chipped blue mug, one eyebrow lifting. “Good morning to you too.”

“It was a good morning until you started talking.”

“That was ten seconds ago.”

“Exactly. You ruined it quickly.”

He’s still in my bed.

That’s the part I’m trying very hard not to think about too directly, because if I think about it, I will start acting strange, and if I start acting strange, Luka Kazan will notice, and then he will look at me with that calm, unbearable face like he knows exactly where my thoughts are going.

He stayed.

All night. And then we fucked again. And the morning sex just makes it too goddamn real.

I place the plate on his lap.

He looks down at it.

Toast. Eggs. Sliced tomato. A little bowl of fruit because I’m not a monster.

His mouth tightens. “You cooked.”

“I heated and cut things.”

“You did not need to.”