Page 31 of Renascence
CHAPTER 6
***Emily***
My body twists in a languid stretch before I even open my eyes. That’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had since… I don’t remember when. Three orgasms will do that to a woman. Three orgasms from a man—a very hot, dirty-talking biker kind of man. Damn. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my lips.
“Wanna share what’s put that look on your face?”
Startled, I turn my head in the direction of the voice. Venom is watching me from the bathroom doorway, arms crossed on his massive chest. His boxer-only state makes my mouth dry. I lick my parched lips, eyes widening at his tented underwear. His hair is wet, and the scent of his body wash wafts over to me. The smirk he’s sporting tells me he knows exactly why I’m smiling.
“Had a good night’s sleep, that’s all,” I answer.
“That’s all, huh?”
“Yup.”
His lids lower, fingers curling around his crotch to adjust it. That’s when I notice I’m only covered from the waist down, and my breasts are on display. I tug the blanket up, avoiding his gaze. Before I know what’s happening, he stalks over, yanking the blanket completely away from my body. My hands instinctively fly to my breasts, shielding them. He perches on the edge of the bed, his stare intense. However, he doesn’t try to move my hands.
“Tell me one thing you love about yourself.”
“What?”
“Just one thing, Em. Tell me.”
Still not meeting his eyes, I think about how to answer. Racking my brain, I can’t come up with a single thing. I’ve been focused on my faults for so long, I don’t even know if I have anything to be proud of.
“It’s okay, darlin’. Not many people know how to answer.”
“If I can’t think of any, then I must not have any good qualities, right?”
“You’re beautiful, smart, and funny. That’s three right there, and I can give you a ton more. You never need to be ashamed or hide from me, Emily. I fucking love your body. Every fucking inch of you. I know it’s going to take more than a few days to undo the damage that fucker did to you, but I’ll get you to own your sexiness if it’s the last fucking thing I do. Trust and believe that.”
My breathing accelerates as I watch him rise to his feet. Even being next to him, he strikes an imposing figure. Standing over me the way he is now? He’s like a god surveying his creation from above. It’s apt, because that’s exactly what he intends to do—mold me into what he wants me to be. What he thinks I should be. What he believes I am deep down inside.
“Shower and meet me in the kitchen,” he orders before walking away.
I don’t know why, but I wait until he leaves the room before I climb out of the bed and head to the bathroom.
This room is heavenly! I think the word is quite an appropriate description, because everything is in gold and white. The tub is huge, able to fit two people easily. There are jet streams on the sides, which means it doubles as a Jacuzzi. I’d love a bath, but Venom is waiting for me. I spot closet doors, opening them to find neatly stacked towels, washcloths, and tissue. Grabbing a towel and washcloth, I shower and wash my hair, then stand before the huge mirror. Surprisingly, there are hair products neatly organized on his sink. I didn’t expect that from my big bad biker.
The moment the thought is formed, I shake it out of my head.What was that?Mybiker? There’s no way that mancouldever orwillever be mine.
I eye his toothbrush with longing, wishing I had mine. Settling for the mouthwash, I gargle until I feel acceptable. I think my panties are useless and still on the kitchen floor, so I slip into my dress, run his comb through my hair, then set out to find him. The scent of pancakes lingers in the air, making my stomach growl in anger.
Venom smiles as I approach, setting a plate with a stack on the table, then motioning for me to sit. They look so good. There’s nothing more I’d rather do than dig into them, but I can’t.
“Um… toast and coffee would’ve been fine. I don’t really eat breakfast.”
“It’s the most important meal of the day, darlin’. Besides, you’ll need your energy for what I have planned for you.”
He winks, turning back to the stove. My muscles clench.
“Really, I’m not hung—”
“Eat, Emily.” He stops the lie before I can say it, his voice gruff and commanding.
He turns off the stove, adding another plate to the table before going to the fridge and returning with butter, syrup, and orange juice. After pouring us two glasses of the OJ, he drops a dollop of butter on my pancakes, then drowns them in syrup. Taking the chair opposite me, he glares at me until I pick up the fork and take a bite.
Holy shit. I don’t remember pancakes being this good! Then again, it’s been a while since I indulged in anything sweet. On my third bite, he finally starts eating.
