“So fuckin’ glad I stole your apartment key and had a copy made for myself while you were having your beauty nap,” he’d all but growled. “Is that how you remember it?” I’d murmured, spreading out on the pillows when he peeled the blankets back and climbed on top of me in all his naked, carved glory. “I remember telling you to get the key cut and get me a latte while you were at it. If memory serves, you returned with fifty red roses, too.”
