HART OF HERS trash bin

I opened my eyes to a breathtaking sight.

My perfect girl sleeping next to me, the early morning sun dancing across her lightly bronzed skin. Like a personal invite to tropical paradise.

Then I glanced over her bare shoulder and almost shit myself. Figuratively speaking. Hopefully.


5:21 AM.


Damn it. I really need to stop doing that.

“What’s wrong?”

She was slurring again. Sexy slurring. A cruel reminder of our extracurricular activities from but a few hours ago. Which I wanted nothing more than to reenact again and again.

And again.

I buried a frustrated groan into my pillow.

Too bad I didn’t have time for anything sexy or extracurricular. Hell, I didn’t have time for much of anything at all.

Except putting her at ease. I’d always make time for that. I took a calming breath and lifted my head. “Nothing. Go back to sleep,” I murmured softly, not a single trace of panic in my voice. It was impressive, really.

If only she couldn’t read my mind. “Liar.”

Yeah, that gutted me. More than she would ever know. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying, Mickey.” Pushing up onto an elbow, I tucked a runaway strand of hair behind her ear. Then ran a thumb along her lower lip and cupped her cheek, leaning in to follow-up with a kiss. I’d always make time for that too.

God, she’s so fucking stubborn.

Damn girl didn’t even kiss me back.

I dipped my head and pressed my lips to her shoulder instead before rolling on to my back. Tossing off the covers, I said, “Just overslept, that’s all.”