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He takes a few deep breaths before he sits up, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Swinging his legs off the bed, he pads his way to my bathroom, where I hear him get rid of the condom before he comes back to me, crawling over my body, kissing me from my ankles, up my leg, across my hips, up my stomach, until he reaches my face.
“That was unreal,” I say to him as he looks at me in what seems like wonder. I wait for his reaction. Being this close, there is no hiding anything, and I hold my breath, anxious for him to talk. He is quiet for a beat, and my chest grows heavy. Was it not the same for him? Did that not flip his whole world on its axis?
“Em… you’re under my skin. I could do that with you all day and all night.” His hand traces my cheekbone as he looks at me, my stomach fluttering. His touch is tender as he pulls me around the waist and drags me to him, spooning me, burying his nose in my neck.
“Well, you know what they say… tomorrow is never promised, and all we have is today,” I whisper, and his hold around me tightens as he groans against my skin.
“We better make tonight count, then.”
And for the rest of the day, until I fall asleep, he makes me see stars.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - BEN
I roll over and groan. I’m tired. My muscles ache like I have run a marathon, and as I take a deep breath, I am sure I smell bacon and coffee. Opening one eye, I peek around to get my bearings. The room is not mine. There are soft throws and pillows, creams and soft pinks. I see a framed photo of Emily and Rosie on the bedside table and I smile as the memories of last night come to my mind.
My eyes adjust to the bright morning sun pushing through the window. Taking my time, I look around the room. It is so neat and tidy, plush and cozy, and nothing like my bachelor pad. She has a few knickknacks, a heavenly bed, and even though I’m sure this place was built in a time reserved for my grandparents, her touch has made the small space homey. I am surprised she is up after how much exercise we had. We devoured each other practically all night, and I had her two more times after we fell into bed yesterday afternoon, each time better than the last.
I lean over and grab my phone, my eyes widening when I realize it is already nine a.m. Scrolling quickly, I see a few messages from my brothers as they try to get in touch with me via our family chat. I am officially late for our scheduled golf game and their ribbing on where I could be if not with them has already started. This is a sleep-in for me, and I can’t remember the last time I woke up so late. Rubbing my face with my hand, I get up, grab my jeans, and go into her bathroom to splash some water on my face.
Her bathroom is tiny as well, and I didn’t pay a lot of attention to it last night, but in the bright morning light, I can see that I am so tall, my head almost meets the ceiling. I can barely fit in the room. She has perfect fluffy warm white towels, every surface is spotless, and I can smell her lavender scent everywhere I turn. I look at the shower and wish I was in it, naked with her, but as my cock starts to come alive at the thought, my stomach rumbles. We skipped dinner last night, preferring to eat each other instead, so I am famished.
Opening the bedroom door, I follow the aroma of bacon, and I spot her in the compact kitchen. She is busy cooking, stirring something on the stovetop while playing some soft music as her background. I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my bare chest, and watch her from the distance. Her hair is up on top of her head in a messy topknot, stray strands framing her fresh face. As my eyes trail down, I forget where I am for a moment as my gaze feasts on her perfect peach in light-wash denim jeans. Her top is just as sexy. She’s wearing a white button-down, the buttons open at the collar, showing off her glowing skin, delicate collarbone, and a peek of her lacy red bra underneath. I’m already ready to strip her down all over again.
The shrill ring of her cell phone interrupts my thoughts, and my eyes flick to her face. She doesn’t look happy as she reaches over the counter and mutes the call without even looking at the screen. She still hasn’t noticed me standing here as she multitasks. Eggs are in one pan, bacon in the other, bread toasting, as she pours juice, ignoring the phone.
“Can I help?” I ask as I push off the door, and she looks up at me. She smiles, and her eyes widen as she takes me in. My jeans are hanging low from my hips, and I walk over to her, her eyes on me the entire way.
“Morning,” she says breathlessly as I stand in front of her.
“Morning, baby,” I say, her new nickname falling from my lips. It feels as natural as breathing. I cup her jaw in my hands and kiss her good morning.
Her cell phone vibrates on the bench next to us, causing us to pull away from each other. She looks at the screen and scowls, rejecting whoever is trying to call her and pushing her phone away so she doesn’t look at it.
“Everything alright?” I ask, intrigued at who is calling her early on a Sunday as she continues to run around the kitchen.
“Yes, of course,” she says with a shake of her head, pushing the spatula into my hands. “Can you manage the bacon?” she asks, and although I am not sure if she is telling me the truth, I do as she asks.
She moves around the kitchen effortlessly as I take care of the bacon, and it isn’t lost on me that this feels oddly domesticated and yet totally normal. I usually hook up with a woman and sneak out the next morning or politely decline breakfast and leave. But not today. Today I am in her kitchen, using her spatula and cooking us bacon, and I have no desire to be anywhere else.
Her phone vibrates and again. And like before, she looks at it and rejects it, sliding it away on the bench.
“Do you need to get that?” I ask, not wanting her to feel like she can’t talk while I am here.
“Oh no, I just thought it may be Rosie, but it isn’t, so it isn’t important,” she says, placing our breakfast on the table, and I plate up the bacon. Together we sit, filling our stomachs and sipping cups of delicious coffee.
Her phone vibrates another three times throughout breakfast, and each time she ignores it. If she needs to take the call, she could ask me to leave or step into her bedroom, but she continues to ignore it, and it is starting to piss me off. First, she didn’t tell me about Rosie, and now I am wondering what else she is being secretive about. I don’t like that feeling.
“So, last night was… um…” she starts, a small pink tint rising to her cheeks that softens me right to my core. I lean back, admiring her, grinning at how adorable she is.
“Unbelievable,” I state, because it was, and I don’t want her to think otherwise.
“I mean, we are fake engaged, I suppose…” she trails off, playing with her food. I can see the vulnerability clear as day on her face. She knows we both enjoyed ourselves, but she thinks that was a one-off of our arrangement or something.
“Let me be perfectly clear, Em. There was nothing fake about last night. That had nothing to do with our deal.” I am firm in my words because I want them to penetrate. I have no idea what is happening and no idea what will happen. But I know what I feel, and I know I need to get this issue with Beasley and the school sorted immediately. She has quickly become so much more important.
“I have—” she starts to say before getting interrupted by her vibrating phone from the countertop. I watch her take a breath and sigh. Closing her eyes for a moment, it’s like it pains her to hear it.
“Are you sure you don’t need to get that?” I ask her once again, the tension in my shoulders rising, trying to give her an opening to take the call.
