Page 124 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Chapter Fifty-Six
Iris
When I open my eyes, it’s pitch-black in Tony’s bedroom. The bedside clock says it’s after ten. I don’t usually sleep this late. I stretch, then wince at the small aches all over my body.
Tony was insatiable last night. Julie told me once that men can’t go all night long, no matter how young and fit, but he did. If I hadn’t practically passed out, there’s no telling how long…
Not that I’m complaining.I stretch like a cat. He has the most magical ability to make me forget everything and just feel. Other than music, nothing does that.
After a quick shower, I discover an extra toothbrush on the vanity. I pick it up and brush my teeth, then put on a new dress shirt from his closet and go downstairs. It smells like fresh java.
“Please tell me you have some coffee for me,” I say as I step into the kitchen.
With a small smile, Tony pushes a large, plain white mug with two creams and a sugar in my direction. I sigh happily, dump them into the dark brew and stir.
Tony looks well rested and sharp, even though it’s obvious he got up hours ago. His blue T-shirt and shorts are casual and ordinary, but settled over the lean, strong lines of his body, they look like high-fashion items.
He’s looking at me with a particularly satisfied smile.
“Reliving your glory last night?” I say.
“Among other things. You want some breakfast?”
“Isn’t it a little late?”
He shrugs. “So?”
“I don’t eat breakfast this late.”
“You didn’t have a decent dinner last night. We didn’t even get to have that specialty cheesecake. You must be hungry.” His lips press tightly together. “And you’re so thin.”
I am?“You weren’t complaining last night.”
He gives me a look. “Don’t be obtuse. I have granola bars, Greek yogurt and fresh berries. Bagels, too. What sounds good?”
“Yogurt and fruit. How did you know?” Pretty sure that’s not what he eats for breakfast. Men as big and muscled as Tony need more.
“I noticed them in your kitchen.” He serves the yogurt and berries in two azure glass bowls.
I pick up a few berries with my fingers and toss them into the yogurt, which turns out to be much richer in consistency than what I normally eat. I make a mental note to see which brand Tony got.
As I eat, Tony comes around the island and stands behind me. Then, very gently, he massages my neck and shoulders.
“Mmm, that feels so nice.”
“Keep eating.”
His fingers are firm and knowledgeable, finding all the tight spots and working on the knots underneath my skin.
“Don’t you have to work?” I ask. Men who are well off seem to be working all the time, even on weekends. Sam once told me he worked virtually nonstop back when he was building his company. Julie complains Byron is actually a little boring because he works so much, even on weekends and holidays. And Tony’s at least as successful as those two.
“Why should I? It’s Saturday.” He buries his nose in my slightly damp hair. “I like the way you smell. My shampoo and soap on you.”
“You mean I smell like a guy?” I joke, over the last spoonful of the yogurt.
“No. You smell like you’re with me.” He kisses the back of my neck.
The spot tingles, and my breath catches, desire heating my blood as though he and I didn’t spend most of last night pleasuring each other.
“Stay,” he whispers against my skin.
I shiver. “Okay.”
