Mr. Romance (Franklin U Book 3) by Louisa Masters

Author:Louisa Masters [Masters, Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-07T16:00:00+00:00

I leave Charlie snoring softly and go back to working at my desk. I’ll wake him soon and suggest we get something to eat, but for now, he can rest. I kind of like the domesticity of him sleeping in my bed while I’m doing other stuff. Which is totally a couple-y thing, so no, it’s not true. I’m just being considerate. It’s rude to wake someone who’s sleeping. Especially after they’ve just given you the best orgasm of your life. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

I get through all the Mr. Romance inquiries and have started on an assignment before Charlie stirs. The snoring fades out, he makes a little snuffling noise, and then his hand kind of pats across the mattress. I watch, amused, as he frowns before blinking his pretty brown eyes open and lifting his head to look around.

“There you are,” he grumbles, his voice husky from his nap. “Why aren’t you here? And why are you wearing clothes?”

I glance down at the briefs I pulled on. “I don’t think these really count as clothes,” I counter, getting up and going back to join him on the bed. He pulls me close with a contented murmur, kissing my shoulder, then draws back to study my briefs.

“Yeah, you’re right. ‘Clothes’ is the wrong word. Maybe ‘rag’?” he muses, and I pinch him.

“Fuck you, not a rag. They’re only a couple months old.” I got a new ten-pack for Christmas.

“That’s not why they’re a rag. They don’t make the most of what you’ve got to offer.” The way his eyes sweep over me has my cock plumping up again. “Your package deserves more,” he says earnestly, and I crack up. It’s hard to believe I can feel this comfortable and be laughing so hard while semi-aroused, but I am. And I love it.

“My package will just have to cope with what it’s got,” I advise. “C’mon, get up and let’s go get dinner.”

“Can we come back here after and watch a movie and eat junk food off each other?”

I freeze halfway to my feet. “Uh… what kind of junk food?”

He shrugs, scrambling out of the bed and reaching for his clothes. “Not sure. Depends what the dining hall has for dessert. Or maybe we should stop at the convenience store or a vending machine.” He lightly slaps my behind. “We’ll work it out, but you gotta get moving. I’m starved.”

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