Free Game's Over: A BWWM Romance (Game of Chance Book 3) by Sasha

 
    Chapter 1
     
     
    “Do you know what day it is?”
    Zenobia didn’t know what day it was. Actually, she didn’t want to know what time it was. She didn’t care what day it was because, come to think of it, it couldn’t be any day because the day had not started.
    “Mmmm,” she muttered eloquently as bright, mean light was thrown in her face.
    “Zenobia! Come on, it’s nearly 8 AM.”
    Zenobia groaned and tried to shuffle deeper underneath the covers, clinging to the remains of sleep with all her stubbornness. The strong smell of coffee penetrated her sleep-addled brain. Zenobia sighed and rolled over, cracking one eye open and shooting the source of all the commotion a mean glare.
    “Morning, sunshine.”
    “Morning, asshole.”
    Zenobia fumbled with the covers and tried to pull them over her head, but Wes wouldn’t have any of it. He yanked the sheet back and grinned at Zenobia, thoroughly enjoying their little song and dance. Zenobia thoroughly hated it. She actually hated anyone that could spring out of bed like they hadn’t worked ten hours straight the previous night and look just as beautiful as they would’ve looked after a weekend in a spa resort. And, of course, Wes belonged to that category.
    Zenobia hated him so much. For real.
    “Come on,” Wes ruffled Zenobia’s hair and sat down on the bed, waving the hot coffee cup under her nose. “We have lots to do today.”
    “You should’ve thought of that before fucking me unconscious last night,” Zenobia shot back, but she did grudgingly accept the coffee, downing it in one go and nearly choking on it when it scorched her throat.
    “Complain, complain.” Wes waited patiently as Zenobia coughed and spluttered on her coffee. “That’s all you do.”
    “I don’t complain about the sex,” Zenobia clarified. “I do complain about being tossed out of bed before the sun rises.”
    Wes silently and eloquently pointed at the bright light shining in the sky. “It’s a figure of speech. Whatever. I’m too tired to argue.”
    Wes leaned in and kissed the frown off Zenobia’s face, his hand running down Zenobia’s cheek to her neck, thumb rubbing in the hollow of her throat. Zenobia sighed and parted his lips, allowing Wes’s tongue to sneak past. There was a slow, dreamlike quality to their kiss, as though all the urgency of Wes’s wake-up call had melted away.
    Zenobia sighed, struggling to keep her eyes open, drinking in the beauty of Wes’s face, the way his eyelashes fluttered on his high cheekbones, the pale tone of his skin, the gentle caress of his hair on the sides of his jaw. He was so stupidly handsome that Zenobia almost couldn’t bear to stare at him.
    Wes’s fingertips skimmed down the sides of Zenobia’s chest, dipping just below the waistband of her panties, finding warm skin. Zenobia looped her other arm around Wes’s neck. Zenobia tangled her hand in Wes’s hair, pulling him closer, suddenly much keener on being awake.
    “You taste like caramel,” Zenobia whispered, dazed, her grin lopsided and warm.
    “Pancakes.”
    Wes kissed her lips again, shifting on the bed so that he could throw one leg over Zenobia’s hips, straddling her -
    “Ahhh!”
    Hot, hot, hot!
    Coffee sprayed on the sheets, on Zenobia’s breast and thighs.
    “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry, I’m…shit, that hurts. I’m sorry…”
    Wes jumped on the spot, getting out of his stained boxers and trying to work in some damage control. Zenobia merely sat with her face between her hands and slowly died of embarrassment. It had to be said—anyone who thought she was the cool, collected type never met Zenobia. She had a knack for working herself into embarrassing corners, and even after over a year and a half spent living with Wes, her boyfriend’s cool did not rub off on her.
    Even if technically it had been Wes knocking into the coffee, it was Zenobia’s cup, and it was Zenobia who hadn’t put it down or  bothered to finished it when she could have.