Jesse
Sleep peels itself back one layer at a time.
The first thing I’m aware of is an unfamiliar warmth in my bed, followed by a newly familiar berry scent.
I drag my eyes open, blinking the shape of the figure beside me into focus.
Copper hair spills over the pillowcase, cascading down a bare back.
My eyes trace over the shape of her, the delicate line of her spine beneath smooth skin.
There’s a faint blush of red on the top of one shoulder where she must have forgotten to reapply sunscreen.
At first, I find myself wondering if it’s a dream. It doesn’t seem possible that she’s here with me, fast asleep in my bed. And if it is a dream, I have no interest in waking up.
Light peeks in through my blinds and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the morning away. I should have listened to Shelby when she insisted that my bedroom windows needed curtains. I haven’t needed them. I hardly ever sleep in, since Diesel normally wakes me for his morning walk.
Diesel. Realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I shoot up into a sitting position. This is not my bed. I spent the night at Marissa’s, which means Diesel is home alone. I need to get home to take him for a walk and get him breakfast.
I steal another glimpse at the figure beside me and immediately lose the willpower to get up. Five more minutes. I just need five more minutes to savor this moment.
Lowering myself back down, I study the shape of her beside me.
The more time we spend together, the more inconceivable it is that her idiot ex let her slip through his fingers.
How could anyone not realize how perfect she is?
This woman deserves the world, and if she were mine, I’d make sure she’d spend every day of her life knowing exactly how cherished she is.
I press my nose into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo, before moving down to brush my lips over her sunburn. She stirs then, letting out a soft sigh before rolling over to face me.
“Good morning,” she says, her voice laced with sleep.
I smile as I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Good morning.”
I bend forward, slanting my lips over hers.
It’s a softer kiss than the ones we shared last night but that doesn’t lessen the effect it has on me.
The electricity shoots straight from the point of contact all the way down to my toes, leaving my brain foggy and disoriented.
The reality of kissing Marissa is something that still hasn’t quite hit me.
I could never have imagined the way her body feels beneath mine, so soft and welcoming.
The way our bodies slot together like two perfectly aligned puzzle pieces.
I’ve been trying to remind myself that this thing between us has an expiration date, because the end of summer is approaching.
But I can’t quite convince my body to believe it.
Based on the way she’s kissing me back, I think she feels it too.
And I’m starting to suspect that walking away from each other is going to be a lot easier said than done.
Speaking of walking away, I need to go home to tend to Diesel before he destroys my entire house in a fit of distress.
I plan on giving her one final kiss before excusing myself.
But then Marissa is rocking her hips against mine.
I capture her bottom lip between my teeth, and she exhales sharply before lacing her fingers through my hair and bringing me down on top of her.
I slide my hands over her, grazing my fingertips up her side before reaching upward to palm her.
She arches into me and the blood rushes to my dick.
I really am going to leave. In two minutes. For sure.
I pull back with a groan, unable to mask my frustration. “I hate to do this, but I need to go home.”
She moves to sit upright, brows furrowed. “You’re leaving?” A flush spreads across her cheeks and I realize she thinks I don’t want to stay with her. What a laughable thought. What man on earth would be willing to walk away from her?
“Trust me, I’d rather stay in bed with you. But I need to let my dog out.”
“Oh, right.” The tension melts from her features and she shoots me a relieved smile. “In that case, give me five minutes to get ready.”
I am not following. Five minutes for what?
“You want to come to my house?”
She tilts her head to the side and gives me a quizzical look. “Of course I do. Did you not just say there was a dog there?”
I breathe out a laugh. “Yes. There is a dog.”
She grins. “I love dogs. We always had one when I was growing up. My golden retriever Norman passed away right after I met Rocky. I wanted to get a puppy, but Rocky isn’t a dog person.”
“Of course he isn’t,” I mutter under my breath.
Marissa tosses me a playful look. “Yeah, I suppose that should have been my first red flag. That and the full-back tattoo.”
I shudder. “That’s enough talk about your ex for one day. Let’s head out as soon as you’re ready.”
“Trust me. For a dog, I can’t get there fast enough.”
I snort out a laugh. “You may want to reserve judgment until you meet this one.”
My house is certainly nowhere near as nice as Marissa’s.
For one thing, it’s about half the size, just a two-bedroom ranch with a stamp-sized backyard.
Still, I’ve always liked the forest-green exterior, and I’ve put some work into it over the years.
I installed a fireplace, so it’s always cozy in the winter, and put up a fence in the backyard, so Diesel has a place to bounce around.
Despite this, I can’t help but feel self-conscious when we step out of the car, and I watch her eyes rake over it all.
When they land on the pair of rocking chairs on the front porch, she grins.
“Looks to me like the perfect place for watching a sunset. You must bring women here all the time.”
I almost laugh out loud until I notice the unspoken question behind her eyes. Is it possible that she’s … jealous?
“I do not bring women here,” I reassure her. “Unless you count my three-year-old niece, who comes for the occasional sleepover when her parents are misbehaving.”
She giggles, but the relief in her expression is evident. It elicits a wild feeling of pride that she wants me to herself. Of all the far more eligible men on the planet, she’s picked me. I really am a lucky son of a bitch.
“Well,” she says, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “Maybe we’ll need to change that.”
I nod, my mouth gone dry. The thought of Marissa becoming a part of the fabric of my home is inconceivable. At the same time, I can easily imagine sitting beside her on my porch every night, watching the sun fade over the mountains.
I can hear the clattering of doggy toenails the second I insert my key into the door.
When Marissa steps inside, I don’t even have time to warn her before a tornado of fur barrels toward us.
Diesel starts happy barking the moment he sees me, bouncing up and down on his paws like they’re lined with springs.
“This is Diesel,” I inform her. “One part boxer and one part kangaroo.”
Diesel lavishes me with his kisses before redirecting his attention to Marissa.
She reaches out a hand to pet him, and he pants happily, a string of drool spilling from each corner of his mouth.
His paws pitter-patter with excitement as he shifts toward her, and I realize his intentions a moment too late.
“Diesel. Don’t even think about it.” I shoot out an arm to hold him back, but he leaps over it and tackles Marissa, knocking her right to the ground.
“Diesel! Off!” I command, pulling him by the collar. He ignores me, not the least bit interested in curbing his exuberance as he peppers her face in kisses. My chest tightens until I hear Marissa laughing.
“It’s okay,” she says beneath the pile of furry limbs. “Honestly, this is the way every person should be greeted when they enter a house.”
She rolls into a sitting position, and I watch, transfixed, as Diesel lays his head in her lap. He’s a friendly dog, but he’s never this familiar with people he’s meeting for the first time. I guess Marissa’s magnetism extends to canines.
“Your dog is kind of a flirt,” she says as she scratches behind his ears. “Must get it from his dad.” She grins and my heart kicks against my rib cage. Jesus, this woman really has me. I’m not sure when it happened, exactly. All I know for sure is that I never want her to let me go.
When Diesel finally has his fill of love, I open the back door and shoo him outside so he can relieve himself. Marissa looks a bit disheveled after being trampled but she’s grinning at the door, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
“I like that dog,” she says. “He’s got spunk.”
“He likes you too,” I tell her. “I think you’ve got a new fan.”
There’s a faint buzz from Marissa’s pocket and she reaches inside, extracting her phone.
“Pooja’s awake,” she says. “I’d better head back. Will you be around later?”