Good Morning I

Coffee. Bill smelled coffee. It was hot and fresh. And close.

Opening his eyes, he found a beautiful woman standing over him, holding a mug with steam curling off the top. She was smiling at him in a way that made him wonder exactly how long she’d been watching him sleep.

He returned the expression as he ran his hand over his face, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks. It was always itchy first thing in the morning.

He could hear the rain still coming down outside, but noting the brightness of the room, he asked, “What time is it?”

“A little after nine,” Laura replied.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. He hadn’t slept that late in ages. “How long have you been up?” he asked as he pushed himself up to lean back against the pillows and headboard.

“Just long enough to take a shower and put on some coffee.” She handed him the mug she’d been holding. “I didn’t know how you take it so I left it black. I have cream and sugar if you’d like.”

“Black’s good,” he assured her, taking a sip of the pungent brew. It was good and he told her so.

She smiled. “I’m going to go start breakfast.”

He watched her go, took a few more sips of the coffee then decided it was time for him to shower and get up as well. It had been very sweet of her to bring him the coffee in bed, there was no need to serve him food there as well.

When he came out of the lavatory, he found a pair of gray sweat pants on the bed and a black t-shirt, both men’s. He smiled and tugged them on, grateful not to have to put last night’s clothing back on after cleaning up, not caring who they might have or still belong to.

Joining Laura in the kitchen, he smiled to see her leaned on the bar, newspaper in hand, cup of coffee at her elbow and a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose. Eggs and bacon were sizzling away on the stove just behind her.

He liked the picture of domesticity that she presented, smiled at her when she glanced up at him and looked him over. “Hope I wasn’t too presumptuous dressing you,” she smiled. “But I figured you’d like something fresh and comfortable to wear.”

Stepping up to the bar, he set his coffee near hers. “Thank you.”

She picked up her coffee and gestured over to the dining area where his uniform was draped over the back of a chair. “My service is picking up some of my suits in a while. You can send it along if you’d like. They’ll have it back tomorrow afternoon.”

Tomorrow afternoon. Meaning he would virtually be her prisoner until then. Oddly enough, he liked the sound of that, cast her an amused look, “Think you’ll want my company for that long.”

“Hmmm, I think I can just manage,” she responded, eyes twinkling with merriment over the dark rim of her glasses.

Speaking of glasses, he thought, chuckling, he could really use his, and his razor. Unfortunately, they were with all of his other things at the hotel where the admiralty staff had put him up.

Watching her turn to tend their breakfast cooking on the stove, he asked, “Do you mind if I have the hotel messenger my bags over?”

“Of course, the phone’s over there,” she gestured with the egg turner before opening the upper cabinet near the stove and grabbing a couple of plates.

Remembering the address she’d given the cab driver last night, he retrieved the handset, called and made the arrangements.

Laura was setting out their breakfast on the bar by the time he hung up. She was refreshing his coffee when he joined her. He thanked her again, leaning in to kiss her temple as she spooned in a mouthful of eggs. He murmured another request against her skin, “I’ll need to let the admiralty know where to reach me, your number okay?”

She nodded as she chewed, stepped over to the refrigeration unit, which had a write-on board. She wrote out her number.

He grinned as she did, surprised at the ease with which she divulged the information. For all she knew it could have been a ploy to get her number. It wasn’t, of course, so he assured her that they wouldn’t call unless it’s important.

“I’m not worried,” she told him, continuing to eat.

With a shake of his head, Bill reached for the phone again and dialed headquarters, gave the aide assigned him the number, then dove into the first homemade breakfast he’d had in gods knew when.

When he was finished, he complimented her on the meal then took care of the dishes for her, washing, rinsing then stacking in the drainer next to the sink. Drying his hands afterward, he turned to find her watching him, an enigmatic smile on her face. She shared her thoughts as she left her perch beside the bar and approached him.

“You realize, I would have frakked you senseless just for doing that.”

Bill chuckled. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she said, laying a hand on his chest. “There’s something decidedly sexy about a man who volunteers to do housework.”

Bill would have never thought that. Carolanne had always said he was underfoot when he tried to help. Either that or had accused him of trying to make her feel like she was a bad wife and mother, as if she couldn’t do anything right. Sexy hadn’t even entered the equation. But apparently it was a part of it now, here, with this woman.

Grinning in amazement, he asked, “Got anything else you need done?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, eyes flashing with amusement and heating with obvious arousal, “What can you do?”

Her fingers trailed down his chest as he sat aside the dishtowel. His body responded to the touch, his cock stirring in the loose sweats. Without boxers, he knew it was going to tent the material quickly and very obviously if she continued to touch him. She did, of course, fingertips reaching under the hem of the shirt to pluck at the waistband of the sweats.

“I’m good with my hands,” he told her.

Her smile turned knowing. “That I know.” Her hand slipped down and cupped him. It was a bold caress and his cock jumped enthusiastically in response, clearly enjoying someone else touching it and more than happy to make a showing for her. “You’re also good with this.” Her voice had gone breathy, dropped in pitch. She rubbed him gently, slowly, her eyes dropping down to where her hand worked.

Bill watched her face, how her delicate features softened and eyes darkened with want, how she bit at her bottom lip only to release it and dart out the tip of her tongue to wet the top. She was a lovely picture of emerging arousal and he’d have to have been deaf, dumb and blind to miss the invitation she was extending.

And it was an invitation. He had a choice, but there was only one he could make when faced with such obvious want.

Easing a hand down to cover hers, he pulled it hard against him, held her there firmly. She looked up at him, her gaze dusky, steady.

“You want me to frak you again, Laura?” he rumbled, rubbing himself against her palm as he guided her until her back was against the counter behind her.

She licked her lips, answered with absolute certainty. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” he rasped, his other hand coming up to skim fingertips across her brow, down along her cheek to her neck. “You need it, don’t you?” He leaned in and touched his lips to her temple. “A hard cock in your pussy. So you can let go. Not think. Feel.”

She nodded but took care not to dislodge his lips from her skin. Her fingers curled around his restrained need, held him as her body melted against his.

In addition to being aroused beyond belief, Bill was touched that she was trusting him enough to give her what she needed. To let him find what he needed in her. He did not fool himself, what was going on between them was about more than sex, but sex was the facilitator for their underlying needs that went beyond those of the flesh.

His hand sliding into her hair, he drew her face into his neck, brought his mouth to her ear, murmured low and soft, “I need it, too.”

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