Page 9 of Blueberry Cake
Holding his weight on one elbow, he cupped her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t be. Would you like to talk about it? Did something upset you?”
“Nothing upset me,” she whispered. “I enjoyed it.”
Ah, that was it: she was overwhelmed. From what he’d gathered, this was the first time she’d ever felt comfortable enough with a man to reach a climax. He shifted the pair of them so he could hold her against his chest. With his fingers combing throughher sweat-dampened hair, he did his best to soothe her.
“Shh,” he hushed. “It’s okay.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m ruining it.”
“No, you’re not. You’re overstimulated. It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in.”
“You’re so thoughtful and understanding.” He wasn’t sure if that was an accusation or not.
Maybe she’d expected that bullying ran in the family. It was most likely messing with her mind that Luka’s behaviour didn’t come from his father. With that thought, Boyd held her tighter and kissed her hair, hoping the small gestures eased her discomfort.
After a while, Queenie seemed to have dozed off. Boyd wasn’t upset by it. He closed his eyes as well, soaking up the moment. From the second he’d seen her walk into the bar, he’d hoped this would happen. Though he hadn’t expected it to be so intense. That wasn’t a bad thing. He’d contemplated on going back and giving her his number. Now, he was glad he had.
She stirred again and when he opened his eyes, he found himself drowning in her soft brown orbs. Her cheeks were flushed, irritated from her salty tears, but she seemed more grounded.
“Better?” he asked, pushing a wild strand of her hair from her forehead.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Do you want me to fetch you some water?”
“That would be nice.”
He leaned down, stamping another kiss to her forehead before rolling out of bed and slipping on a pair of briefs. When he returned to the bedroom, his heart nearly leaptout of his chest. Queenie sat on the bed, wearing nothing but his shirt. It was the most precious sight he’d ever seen. He handed her the water bottle, immediately chastising himself for not twisting the cap for her. That was, until Queenie did it herself. She tucked the bottle in her left arm, cracking it open with her hand. Then Boyd was kicking himself for doubting her to begin with.
He placed her clothes on the bed, sitting down next to her. “You okay?”
“Yes. You?”
An uncharacteristic heat swept over Boyd’s cheeks. Was heblushing? God, he was. “Definitely.”
“My reaction wasn’t about being upset with anything that happened. Not in a bad way.”
“I thought as much. I just want you to know it’s okay to say if there was something that you were uncomfortable with. Even if you don’t realise it until after the fact.”
“There isn’t a thing.” The conversation lulled. Queenie replaced the cap on the bottle and looked back at him, seemingly unsure of what to do next. “What now?” she voiced.
“That’s up to you. You can get dressed and walk out of here. Or you can stay and maybe have lunch with me.”
Her gaze drifted to the large windows, and Boyd could almost see the emotions warring behind those bright eyes. “I’m not sure. I didn’t wake up with a plan. I definitely didn’t think I would end up here.”
“Do you think you’ll regret it tomorrow?”
Queenie smiled, her eyes narrowing from her cheeks being pushed up—it was fucking adorable. “No.”
Boyd fought the urge to sigh in relief. “I won’t either.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that lunch offer.”
The grin that curled his lips was entirely involuntary. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He stood from the bed, picked up his jeans, and walked out the room. In the kitchen, he started to pull out ingredients for a pasta bowl. He had thought about taking her out, but he wasn’t ready to share her—selfishly.Hewanted her undivided attention. Cooking for someone was far more intimate than sitting at a stuffy restaurant with food that was way too expensive for what it was.
Queenie appeared in the room, commanding his attention. “You’re going to cook?”
“Why do you sound so sceptical?” He turned and saw her handing him his shirt. He took it, lifting her onto the island in one swift move. There was no way he’d be responsible for getting that pretty dress dirty. “I was told I’m a great cook. But if it doesn’t meet your standards, I’ll make up to it by taking you out to dinner.”
