Fixed up in February (Spring River Valley Book 2) by Clarice Wynter Page B

distraction.
    She lay half asleep next to him now, her hand across his chest, her hair fanning out on the pillow, her lips plump and red from kissing.
    She was more than he’d ever asked for, and he had to wonder if how he felt in this moment might be more than he could handle.
    He wasn’t the commitment type, never had been, but this woman in his arms, wrapped around his sated body, breathing in sync with him, demanded more than he might be able to give. He never wanted to disappoint her.
    She stirred, and he stroked her skin, watching the goose bumps rise along her shoulder and travel down to more interesting curves. “Stop that,” she moaned. “I’m too tired to move.”
    “Then don’t move.”
    “But I’ve been practically limp since we fell into bed. You’ve done…everything.”
    “Twice. I’ve done everything twice.”
    “So I should do something.”
    “You should. It’s practically expected of you.” He shifted his body so he was lying on his back and locked his fingers behind his head. “I’m all yours. Do what you will.”
    She lifted her head then collapsed back on his chest. “I can’t. You’ve exhausted me.”
    “That was my plan all along.”
    “So that was your plan, not to seduce me, not to keep me quiet long enough for me to realize I sort of like you…all you wanted was to just wear me out?”
    “Yes. Wait a minute, you sort of like me?”
    She wove her fingers together and rested her chin atop them. “You have to admit, you’re an acquired taste. I’ve made it all the way to ‘sort of like’ in record time.”
    “So what will it take to get you to the next level?”
    “That depends. What comes after sort of like?”
    He growled and rolled her underneath him. “You do.”
    She protested only half-heartedly, and not long after he had demonstrated what came after sort of like and what came after her, they lay sated again.
    “No more. My muscles don’t work anymore.”
    “You call those muscles?” He squeeze d her feminine biceps. “ These are like wet spaghetti. No wonder you’re down for the count. We need to work on strength training and build up some resistance.”
    She grinned and met his gaze. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? I can’t resist you. You’re irresistible.”
    He contemplated that. “You’re right. I am. I’m also starving.”
    “What time is it?” Slowly, she crawled over him, reminding him he still had a bit of strength left. He let his hands roam while she felt around on her nightstand for the clock. Squinting in the darkness she said, “It’s after midnight. You know what that means?”
    “My coach turns into a pumpkin, and you’re going to have to run all over town searching for me with a glass Reebok?”
    “No…ugh.” She heaved the clock back onto the little table and rolled off him to snuggle under the covers. “It means this is Valentine’s Day.”
    “No kidding? Best one I’ve ever had.”
    “Me too.”
    “Do you have any plans for later?”
    She stretched next to him, making sure her luxurious curves rubbed against all of his hard angles. “I was going to eat ice cream and watch sad movies.”
    “Sounds like a plan to me.”
    “That’s a plan for a single girl with no date.”
    “Okay, we could eat hoagies and watch football.”
    “Isn’t that the plan for a single guy with no date?”
    “We can add ice cream and cry over the half time score.”
    “Already this isn’t working out.”
    Max laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “Other than the need to eat, what’s wrong with spending the day right here?”
    “That sounds like a plan. I don’t have to be at the hospital until the fifteenth.”
    “That leaves us back to eating.”
    “You’re the cook. Think of something.”
    He bit her shoulder, and she shrieked. “Problem solved.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Audrey kissed Max good-bye almost twenty hours later. They’d spent the day making love in the bedroom, making a mess of French toast and pancakes in