Page 88 of Breaking His Law

ARI

My eyes flutter open, then close again, my mind unable to comprehend why I feel so tired and why my body feels as if it’s gone twelve rounds with a heavyweight boxer.

I grumble, my muscles aching and screaming at me to go back to sleep, so I turn over onto my side to be met by a wall of pure muscle and realize he’s the reason my body feels like a punch bag. It’s a pleasurable pain I will never complain about.

An instant smile shapes my lips and I softly chuckle to myself at how huge he looks in my tiny bed. You could fit my entire apartment into his bedroom.

Last night, after Cirque du Soleil, Nathan and I fucked like rabbits until I tapped out, unable to take any more. He’s insatiable.

Nathan has stamina, that’s for sure; buckets of the stuff.

I drape my arm around his waist and lay my leg over his. He must be just as exhausted as me because he doesn’t even move a millimeter as I snuggle myself into his back.

Content, surrounded by his heady aftershave and everything him, I drift off to sleep to the sound of his steady breathing.

Yeah, this is the life.

When I wake up again, the sunshine is blazing through the bay window of my bedroom, and I groan as my sleep-filled eyes struggle to adjust to the dazzling San Francisco sun.

“Too bright,” I mutter and give my eyelids a quick rub, then I stretch out my stiff body, pushing my hands above my head.

I look through the window at the summer sun. It’s been much hotter than usual and at times I’ve questioned if I was designed for this weather. I much prefer snow to sun and would choose that any day of the week, specifically today when I want to curl up into a ball and hibernate for a month.

I glance at the open curtains I know I didn’t open then snap my head to the side and realize I’m alone. A sense of dread overwhelms me until I spot something on the pillow, the indent of Nathan’s head evidence he was here.

Pulling the comforter under my arms, I prop myself up onto my elbow and lift what looks like a letter off the pillow then smile.

My fleeting disappointment leaves me instantly when I stick my fist into my eye socket to give one then the other a rub and clear my cloudy vision so I can read the neatly penned letter, and I instantly recognize Nathan’s handwriting. It is very distinguishable with loops and swooshes that all link together seamlessly. I swear he could be a font designer.

Good morning, beautiful,

Fill a weekend bag, we’re off to the family ranch until Tuesday afternoon.

Pick you up at noon. Be ready.

Always yours, Nathan x

I read the letter again, much slower this time, and do a little inner squeal with excitement.

“His family ranch?” And is he taking Monday and Tuesday off? Well, this is a first.

This is huge for him. Time off is not something he does, and I might need to reschedule his calendar.

A sudden thought hits me like a cannonball to the gut.

Will his father be there?

Oh my God, I’m finally going to meet my nemesis.

34

ARI

With the roof down and the wind flowing through my hair, we drove for less than an hour, out of town and over the Golden Gate Bridge then onto the busy freeway, before heading to Nathan’s family ranch just outside Mill Valley.

Off the main freeway, and down several winding roads later, camouflaged by trees and deep green foliage, his parents’ ranch came into view as Nathan’s Bentley Continental convertible, which costs more than I will make in a lifetime, rolled down the gravel driveway.

Nathan held my hand the entire drive here, and more talkative than usual, he asked me dozens of questions about the cases he’s working on because he said he values my opinions. Then we moved onto small talk, which we do often, and shared more of our likes and dislikes, our favorite films and foods, before we moved onto places around the world we would most like to visit.

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