“You look surprisingly ornery for the morning after a hot date.”

I ignored Maggie and poured myself a cup of coffee, momentarily forgetting that there is no ignoring Maggie.

“How was it? There’s something about Cullen that screams ‘big enough to be in porno,’ but then again, any guy would seem well-endowed after that needle dick you used to date. And you were with him for how long? Two years? So even though it’s been over a year since you’ve gotten any, it may as well have been…like…I don’t know…three times that. You’re probably sore as hell.”

“Would you keep your voice down?”

“What are you, hungover? Please tell me after all that you weren’t so drunk last night that you don’t remember fucking him. Because that would be the ultimate in bad luck—even for you.”

“Shut up, Maggie,” I whispered in a tone meant to let her know I meant business.

She clapped her hand over her mouth in realization. “Oh my god! He’s still here isn’t he?”

Before I could confirm his presence, my bedroom door swung open and out strode Cullen, all bed hair and and chest muscles and stubble.

Fuck me, the stubble was back.

“Good morning, ladies.”