“And count yourself lucky because I don’t do sleepovers,” I add. “So get your hot little ass back in my bed before I change my mind.”
She pauses, exhaling, and slowly climbs back under the covers. “You don’t think this is weird?”
“It’s only weird if you say it’s weird. You want to call this weird?”
“No.”
“Okay. Hand me the remote.”
She grabs the remote from her side of the bed and hands it off, and I flick the TV on. It’s already tuned to ESPN, and we’re just in time to catch today’s highlights reel.
Delilah fluffs the pillow behind her, yawning and keeping a safe distance from me.
“I can’t believe we fell asleep,” she says.
“I can.” I smirk.
She rubs her eyes and nonchalantly fixes her messy bed head. She’s too fucking adorable. Sitting up, she adjusts her pillows and leans back against the headboard.
“I’m wide awake now,” she says. “I may as well head back.”
“Delilah,” I groan. “For the love of God.”
Her response comes in the gurgling growl of her stomach.
Delilah’s hand flies to her lower belly. “Sorry. I was so busy getting the house ready earlier, I forgot to eat dinner tonight.”
“You’re hungry?” I sit up, resting on my elbow. “Come on.”
Peeling off the covers, I climb out of bed and motion for her to follow.
“Where are we going? I’m naked, you know.” There’s a slight giddiness to her tone.
“Well aware of the fact that you’re naked,” I reply, taking her hand and pulling her down the hall toward the kitchen. I pull a bar stool out for her and head to the pantry, returning with a box of pancake mix. “Midnight pancakes are my specialty.”
Her cherry lips lift in the corners as her gaze is trained on my every move.
“What, you didn’t think I could cook?” I measure a cup of water and pour it into a bowl full of mix, whisking with quick light strokes, just like my abuela taught me years ago.
“I didn’t say anything.” She holds her hands up. “Do you want help?”
“Nope. You’re my guest. And you more than earned this pancake dinner, gorgeous.” I heat up a pan on the stove, my back toward her. “I can feel you checking out my ass.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, de la Cruz.”
“It’s okay if you like my ass. I’ve heard it looks great in football pants. But, you know, I’ve never actually looked. I wouldn’t know for sure.”
I pour a ladle full of batter into the skillet and grab a spatula as little bubbles rise to the top. A couple minutes later, I plate the pancakes. One for her. One for me. And meet her at the island with all the fixings: maple syrup, chocolate chips, whipped cream, and strawberries.
“You’re the only person I know who can make me think of sex while I eat pancakes.” Delilah licks a drip of syrup from her lower lip. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to look at pancakes the same again.”
“And you shouldn’t.” I dip a strawberry into a bowl of whipped cream. “From here on out, every time you eat pancakes, you’re going to remember this night and the amazing sex you had with the asshole next door. I’m pretty much cursing you, since I’m a wizard and all.”
“Sorcerer.”
“Same difference.”
She forks a sliver of syrup-drenched pancake and smiles. I like Delilah when she smiles. I also like her when she’s on all fours. Naked as the day she came. I really, really like her that way. But I like her this way too. Relaxed and sweet and at ease.
Her soft gaze washes over me as she finishes her plate, grabbing a strawberry and dragging it through a smear of melted chocolate chips.
“Thanks for the food, de la Cruz,” she says, red juice dripping from her lip. I reach across the island and catch it with my thumb, bringing it to my mouth.
“You all finished?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Let’s get you back where you belong.” I walk around to her side and hook my hand around her wrist, pulling her back to bed.
Once we’re under the covers, she inches toward her side of the bed little by little, the space between us widening by the second.
“You trying to land a jet here or something?” I point to the landing strip between us. Sure, it’s a king-sized bed, but that doesn’t mean we need to lie in different continents here. I extend my arm and motion for her to come in.
Pursing her lips, she wiggles closer until her head fits perfectly in the crook of my shoulder and the scent of her clean shampoo fills my nostrils.
The flicker of the TV lights and then darkens the room, and I catch Delilah in a yawn. Good sex and good food will do that to a person.
“It’s been years since anyone’s stayed over,” I say, dragging my fingertips down her arm.
“Lucky me.”
“Damn right, lucky you.” I smirk, kissing the top of her head because it’s so damn hard to be this close to her and not want to taste and touch and feel her at all times.
The Sports Center theme song plays and the show cuts to commercial. Delilah rolls to her side, facing me, and I wrap her up in my arms.
“Rue said you have a sex tape.” Her words stop my heart cold. “Is that true?”
For the first time in a long time, I’m at a loss for words. I mean, the sex tape is something anyone with an Internet connection could easily Google, but it’s been a long time since someone straight up asked me about it.