Page 23 of Once Upon A Second Chance
Leaning against my counter, shirtless, in nothing but his boxer briefs. Steam curls from the mug in his hands, and his hair is a mess, like he’s already run his fingers through it a dozen times.
My mouth goes dry.
He looks up, mid-sip, and freezes.
For a long moment, we just stare at each other.
Then—
"You’re awake," he says, voice rough with sleep.
I cross my arms. "You’re in my kitchen."
A smirk tugs at his lips. "Fair."
The silence stretches, thick with everything we’re not saying.
I should be furious. I should kick him out. I should—
God, he looks good.
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Sunlight spills across his chest, highlighting the planes of muscle, the dusting of dark hair, the scars I used to trace with my tongue. My fingers twitch with the memory.
Richard sets his mug down. "Penny—"
"Don’t." I hold up a hand. "Just… don’t."
He nods, but his eyes don’t leave mine. They’re darker than I remember, full of something I can’t name.
Bijou chooses that moment to trot over and sniff his ankles. Traitor.
Richard bends to scratch behind her ears. "Hey, little lady."
"She’s not yours," I say automatically.
He glances up, a challenge in his gaze. "Neither are you."
The words hang between us, sharp as a blade.
I swallow hard.
Then I turn and walk away.
I make it exactly three and a half steps down the hallway before Richard's fingers curl around my wrist.
"Hold on—are we just going to pretend last night didn't happen?"
His voice is equal parts amused and offended. "Because I have bruises in places that say otherwise."
I whirl around, my stupid sleep shirt fluttering around my thighs. "Oh, my God, keep your voice down! Mrs. Delaney's probably got her good ear pressed to the wall already."
As if on cue, the neighbor's sprinklers kick on outside. We both freeze.
Richard's mouth twitches. "...That's suspiciously timed."
I jab a finger at his bare chest. "This is exactly why we need ground rules."
"Ground rules," he repeats, deadpan. "For the apocalyptic sex we just had."
