Page 39 of Savage Temptation
So much work, because he’s a big deal CEO that everyone is counting on.
Not that my heart got the memo. Instead of waking refreshed from the amazing sex we had, I feel like I’m drowning, being suffocated by a thick shroud of despair. He filled so well only to leave me hollow.
Yes, I am aware of my flare for drama.
My eyes burn. I blink rapidly to shoo away the inevitable tears.
Get your shit together. You asked for this.
While it is true that this is exactly what I asked for, I couldn’t foresee how lonely I would feel. I thought of the pleasure more than the pain, and now I’m paying for it.
I roll out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom. Perhaps Ashley or Cindy can bring donuts. Not the gourmet ones. The trashy kind. Dunkin’.
I brush my teeth, get dressed, throw on the floral robe my granny gave me for my birthday, and exit my bedroom to make my morning coffee.
The scent of bacon wafts over to me, which is strange because my air fresheners are all vanilla-scented.
“Morning, beautiful.”
Standing in my kitchen, toiling over the stove, is Atticus Savage.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out.
He looks at me, brow narrowing. “Um, should I have left?”
I’m at a loss for words, but physical perfection will do that to a woman.
It’s not fair that I’m sporting bedhead while his hair is perfectly styled. That I’m standing here in a senior-styled robe, and he’s in a tight-fitted undershirt that shows off his best assets and…my oversized flannel pajama pants? Which admittedly looks better on him than me. They extend an inch past his knee, revealing his ridiculously sculpted calves.
“I can leave, but at least let me finish making breakfast.”
“No, it’s fine. I was just confused.” I cock my head to the side. “You’re wearing my pajama pants.”
He comes over and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. “I had to improvise. Why don’t you take a seat? The food is almost ready.”
I sit at the bar separating the living room from the kitchen and watch him work, wondering what this all means. Does he want a morning quickie and feels obligated to make me breakfast first? Or is he just being nice?
It’s laughable that I’m twenty-four and have never been in this situation before. It’s not that I meant to stay celibate for so long, but when I was in high school, I was too busy pining for Atticus to pay attention to boys my age, and when I finally realized I’d never have a chance with him, I was knee-deep in college and internships to find the perfect man to lose my virginity to.
This came out of nowhere.
“You didn’t have to go through the trouble,” I finally say.
“It wasn’t trouble. Well, the coffee maker you have gave me hassle. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s called a percolator.”
“It’s a relic from a time long passed. I took the liberty of ordering you a state-of-the-art Jura that will be much easier to navigate.”
“Then you just wasted what I’m assuming is a sizable amount of cash, because it’s only going to get used when you’re around.”
“I guess I’d better come by a lot, so it doesn’t go to waste.” He winks at me.
We look at each other for a long moment, unsure of how to navigate the situation. The familiarity between us, the comfort, is addicting, making us reckless.
I clear my throat. “The bacon is burning.”
When my words register, he whispers,“Oh, fuck.”
