Excerpt: This is not the novel I meant to write

I leaned forward, tried to set [the coffee] down on the bedside table, pulled away to fast and splashed it all over the front of me. The table was about groin height and I sleep naked. I screamed, and grabbed the nearest pillow to mop up the most sensitive spots.
“Sis.” With a thunder of footsteps, Crow was abruptly in the doorway, cast iron frying pan held high. As he stood there, the remains of an omelet slowly slid off the pan and landed on the floor with a soft plop.

We stared at each other for a long moment. Me, naked and sprinkled with cooling coffee. He wielding the last of breakfast as a ready weapon.
His eyes traced the coffee and his pupils dilated.
I raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged and grinned. “I’m not much for coffee normally, but I can make an exception.” Setting aside the pan, he came over to me, and then slowly knelt. Starting at about hip level, he ran his lips lightly across my skin.