Page 25 of Savage Temptation
Because I’ve never experienced anything so perfect and flawless in all my pitiful existence.
Holding her, I lie awake as she drifts off, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It wasn’t supposed to mean so much.
And the one thing I know for sure, that is unquestionable, is that thirty days will never be enough.
CHAPTER8
TESSA
Atticus Savage is no stranger to me, and yet, seeing him after we wake has me wondering if I’ve ever known him at all.
His hair is tousled chaos, which contrasts his dapper business-professional look. There’s a calmness to him, with none of the nervousness and awkwardness that I feel. Perhaps it’s because this isn’t new to him. It’s safe to say he’s bedded hundreds of women. What’s one more?
The thought is like a punch to the gut, but perhaps that’s what I need. What we did was just too perfect. It’s enough to make me get lost, forget what this is about.
His eyes light when they see me, like he thought it had all been a dream.
In truth, I had half worried that it was and I’d wake up in a jail cell covered in poo.
He kisses my forehead and says, “I’ll just be a moment.”
He stretches, then bounds out of bed, granting me a generous view of his firm, round backside.
And what an ass. How was this man born with so many gifts? A genius brain, endless wealth, and a body that would allow him to walk runways if he chose.
He rummages through a drawer and pulls out two pairs of lounging clothes, one for him, one for me. My eyes are glued to him as he dresses, taking in every delicious muscular curve. When he leaves, I pinch myself and wince.
Not a dream…
The last twenty-four hours have been a never-ending rollercoaster. How I went from jail to confessions of lust to actual sex is beyond my wildest fantasy.
I’m not just shocked that Atticus would desire me, which is rather surprising with all the women that want him. It’s that he’s so freaking good at what he does. He had me seeing stars, and he did so effortlessly. Knowing my body better than I do.
Because he’s been with so many women…
Why is my inner monolog such an asshole?
I dress quickly, rolling up the pants so that they fit better.
Atticus reenters the room, sliding a tray onto the nightstand. “My apologies. I usually have multiple attendants onboard when I fly, but this flight came about rather unexpectedly. At least there’s coffee.”
“Are those cereal bars?”
“Sadly, yes. I was also unable to properly stock the jet with perishables.”
I rip open the wrapper to an apple-flavored Nutri-Grain bar. “No complaints here.”
“I promise I’ll make it up to you. There’s this amazing bistro on the corner of—”
It’s rude that I cut him off with a glare, but I can’t let him go on like he is. “We can’t risk being recognized.”
“Why not? We’ve been friends for over a decade.”
“Yeah, but tell me it’s not going to cause any issues. Tell me that Lance won’t suspect the worst if he hears about us ‘doing breakfast’.”
Atticus frowns. “Point well made.”
I bite my lip, remembering what Atticus was supposed to be doing last night.
