She didn’t know him well enough to let him hear her peeing. Never mind that they’d had sex three times: first the hot, frantic sex, then relaxed sex, and the last time had been sleepy, cuddly sex at two in the morning—she still didn’t know him. She knew a lot of things about him, mainly on the physical level, but she didn’t know him .
What she did know was that she needed to shower and get ready. She needed to be in the office by seven; she had to move, and move fast. She needed to get the cop out of her bed and out of the house so she could do this, and she didn’t have time for chitchat.
The coffeemaker finished its burping and spewing, beeping to let her know the coffee was ready. Gratefully she grabbed two cups, then paused and gave them a thoughtful look. Yeah, that would work. She knew just how to get him moving out the door, with a minimum of fuss.
Eric woke up when Jaclyn eased out of the bedroom. Through slitted eyes he admired the lean, graceful curves of her body just before she slipped out of sight and carefully closed the bedroom door. There wasn’t a lot of her, but what she had was shaped just right, from her small, high breasts with those tight little nipples to the round curve of her ass. And her legs … holy fuck, her legs were a wet dream by themselves, slim and firmly muscled, and satiny smooth. He might never recover from the high of having those legs wrap around him and hug him tight.
But he should have gone home last night and not stayed in bed with her. Now what? He hated the awkwardness of the morning after. Did she want a morning quickie? He’d be glad to oblige her, except he needed to get home, shower, shave, and change clothes, and get to work, and women tended to get pissed if a man turned them down, no matter how good an excuse he had. Maybe she’d just want to cuddle or—God, he’d rather have a kick to the balls—talk about last night. Why did women always want to talk about the night before, at least if there had been sex involved? Just let it be. They’d had the hots for each other from the minute they’d collided at city hall, he’d asked, and she’d said yes. It wasn’t any more complicated than that.
He wanted to see her again, yeah, but he didn’t want to dissect everything he’d said and done last night … not that he’d said much. Neither of them had. Between bouts of sex, they’d both slept. When they’d met up in the bar she’d talked easily and with confidence, but after they were in bed talking had been kept to a minimum. It was nice, being with a woman who didn’t think a good time to have an in-depth discussion about anything was while she was having sex. He liked that, liked her … so far.
But because he wanted to see her again, he figured he couldn’t just get up, get dressed, and leave. He’d have to pave the way, make sure he didn’t do anything to piss her off—such as getting up, getting dressed, and leaving. Which was why he should have done just that last night, with a hug and a kiss and a promise to call her later. For some stupid reason, women didn’t seem to mind a guy leaving at night, but if you stayed until morning all sorts of weird rules kicked in, and damn if he knew what they were.
He rolled over and looked at the clock, and his eyebrows rose. Just after five. She’d said she was busy this week, and if she had to get up at five o’clock she hadn’t been exaggerating. He had no idea what a wedding planner had to do that took up so much time—how hard could it be?—but she was conscientious about the job, and he liked that. Too many people these days blew off their responsibilities as if only stupid people actually did their jobs to the best of their abilities. Of course, being a cop meant he pretty much dealt with the dregs anyway, but he ran into that privileged, smart-ass, I’m entitled attitude every day in people who hadn’t earned a tenth of the regard they thought they should have.
He couldn’t hear
What she did know was that she needed to shower and get ready. She needed to be in the office by seven; she had to move, and move fast. She needed to get the cop out of her bed and out of the house so she could do this, and she didn’t have time for chitchat.
The coffeemaker finished its burping and spewing, beeping to let her know the coffee was ready. Gratefully she grabbed two cups, then paused and gave them a thoughtful look. Yeah, that would work. She knew just how to get him moving out the door, with a minimum of fuss.
Eric woke up when Jaclyn eased out of the bedroom. Through slitted eyes he admired the lean, graceful curves of her body just before she slipped out of sight and carefully closed the bedroom door. There wasn’t a lot of her, but what she had was shaped just right, from her small, high breasts with those tight little nipples to the round curve of her ass. And her legs … holy fuck, her legs were a wet dream by themselves, slim and firmly muscled, and satiny smooth. He might never recover from the high of having those legs wrap around him and hug him tight.
But he should have gone home last night and not stayed in bed with her. Now what? He hated the awkwardness of the morning after. Did she want a morning quickie? He’d be glad to oblige her, except he needed to get home, shower, shave, and change clothes, and get to work, and women tended to get pissed if a man turned them down, no matter how good an excuse he had. Maybe she’d just want to cuddle or—God, he’d rather have a kick to the balls—talk about last night. Why did women always want to talk about the night before, at least if there had been sex involved? Just let it be. They’d had the hots for each other from the minute they’d collided at city hall, he’d asked, and she’d said yes. It wasn’t any more complicated than that.
He wanted to see her again, yeah, but he didn’t want to dissect everything he’d said and done last night … not that he’d said much. Neither of them had. Between bouts of sex, they’d both slept. When they’d met up in the bar she’d talked easily and with confidence, but after they were in bed talking had been kept to a minimum. It was nice, being with a woman who didn’t think a good time to have an in-depth discussion about anything was while she was having sex. He liked that, liked her … so far.
But because he wanted to see her again, he figured he couldn’t just get up, get dressed, and leave. He’d have to pave the way, make sure he didn’t do anything to piss her off—such as getting up, getting dressed, and leaving. Which was why he should have done just that last night, with a hug and a kiss and a promise to call her later. For some stupid reason, women didn’t seem to mind a guy leaving at night, but if you stayed until morning all sorts of weird rules kicked in, and damn if he knew what they were.
He rolled over and looked at the clock, and his eyebrows rose. Just after five. She’d said she was busy this week, and if she had to get up at five o’clock she hadn’t been exaggerating. He had no idea what a wedding planner had to do that took up so much time—how hard could it be?—but she was conscientious about the job, and he liked that. Too many people these days blew off their responsibilities as if only stupid people actually did their jobs to the best of their abilities. Of course, being a cop meant he pretty much dealt with the dregs anyway, but he ran into that privileged, smart-ass, I’m entitled attitude every day in people who hadn’t earned a tenth of the regard they thought they should have.
He couldn’t hear
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