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“And tattoos,” I said dryly. I pointed to the one on his chest. “Do they mean something, or do you just enjoy being in pain?”
A shadow moved across his face. “They write themselves. No needles necessary.”
I tilted my head to see him better. “Ciara doesn’t have any.”
“I know.” His lips brushed my forehead.
I opened my mouth to ask more, but he rolled on top of me.
“Now, about breakfast.” His grin made my heart skip.
The door to my bedroom rattled on its hinges, jolting us apart. “Are you in there?” Ciara’s muffled voice called. “I need you.”
So much for breakfast.
“Just a second!” I yelled.
I pushed him off me and scrambled out of the bed, looking for something to wear. My silk robe was on the floor.
“Tell her to come back later and get back in bed,” he said, watching me from where he lay with amused eyes.
I shushed him. “You need to leave.” I looked around. “Where are your clothes?”
He pushed up with a frown. “In my closet.”
“Go get them.”
He scowled, but he climbed out of the bed. I nearly forgot why I was kicking him out at the sight of his ass. I shook myself free of my daze. Ciara was in the hall, and he was naked. I threw the robe at him. “Put this on.”
Lach stared at me like I’d grown another head.
“Ciara is out there.”
“So?” He shrugged into the robe. It stopped several inches above his knees, the silk straining against his broad shoulders. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but at least he wasn’t naked.
“So!? Do you really want to be naked when she breaks down the door?” I grabbed a pair of random sweats from a drawer, nearly tumbling over as I tried to pull both legs on at once. “This isn’t…proper.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, and I got the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh. “I think we passed proper around midnight.”
But Ciara would see him and have questions, and I personally didn’t feel like following last night with an interrogation. I yanked a shirt over my head. “Just nip into your room or something.”
His amusement fizzled, his pressed lips setting into a hard line. “I’ve never done a nip of shame before.”
The door shook on its hinges again.
“Cate, are you alive?” Despite the door between us, I could hear Ciara’s annoyance.
Lach gestured to the door. “Just open it.”
I groaned, wishing Lach’s default setting wasn’t difficult. “Just nip!”
He opened his mouth to protest again, but I cut him off with an exasperated glare. He threw up his hands and vanished.
I gulped down a deep breath, raking my hands through my hair and hoping that I wasn’t a total wreck. Throwing open the door, I feigned a yawn. “What’s up?”
“Up?” she repeated, her brows jumping an inch. She peered over my shoulder. She was in satin pajamas, her hair piled in a messy knot on top of her head, and she still looked gorgeous. “Were you talking to someone?”
“Nope.” I stepped to the side and let her see my empty room. Her eyes narrowed on the bed as if the askew sheets were a clue.