At the most, this opened a door, at the least, it kept her from snooping through my office. Either way. It wasn’t over.
Seven
Mercy
Isat on my bed and stared at the wall. Things changed last night. I’d wanted him before I couldn’t deny that. Now I had a taste, my body hummed with the knowledge of what he could do for me. The sensations he ignited with his teeth and tongue, lips, and fingers. My skin felt alive, my insides too. Damn him for this. I’d no longer be able to look at him and not feel everything he did to me. On me. For me.
The tinkling of cutlery wafted from the other room. Breakfast. I built the courage to go out and face him. And what we did. When I entered the dining room and sat down it was empty. Not that I expected small talk over eggs, but I’d built this moment up in my head for the last hour. Now I sat here, I felt foolish for overthinking it.
My stomach growled and I lifted the lid on the plate and dove in. Then spotted the carafe filled with steaming coffee. Yes. I poured a mug and hugged it to my chest. The liquid burning my tongue comforted me.
“If you look like that with every cup of coffee I’ll have to remember to have some ready at all times.”
His voice hit me like a lightning strike. I went wet, my lungs felt thick, and I glanced up over my mug. God, he looked good, strangely, even more now that I knew what he hid under his clothing.
“Hi,” the greeting felt inadequate.
He sat across from me and lifted the lid off his own plate. I watched him carefully. Hoping. Wishing he’d touch me. Instead, he ate his food, poured his own coffee, and continued to eat.
“Are we going to talk about this?” I asked, when the silence started to eat at me.
He froze mid-fork lift. “Do we need to talk about this?”
I swallowed and sank back in my chair, coffee still in hand. Right, it was sex, and really just oral sex at that. I was overthinking. It meant nothing.
“Stop.” His command rang through the dining room. I locked my eyes to his.
“I can see your mind at work, analyzing, playing this down. We aren’t not talking about this because this isn’t over. When it is, we can discuss it, until then, consider the time spent when I’m not inside you a pause button.”
I finished choking on my last sip of coffee and put down my mug to be on the safe side. We were going to have sex. I knew that it was inevitable. But I could mitigate the damage, if I was smart.
Looking at him now, I realized I wasn’t smart when it came to him. He lit me up in more ways than one. In lust, in anger, in indignation. The man was a walking incitement. Was he this way with everyone? Or was I just lucky?
“I’ll try not to overthink it,” I managed.
He returned to his breakfast and I resumed watching him. So carefully deliberate, he stopped eating and stared at me. “Will you quit it? You’re creeping me out.”
I mumbled an apology and focused on my own food. “Any plans today? Are you going to try and dress me like a stripper again?”
Deadpan without looking up he said, “no. I’d rather you were naked.”
My fork clattered to the porcelain plate and heat spiked in my cheeks. I was a grown woman, I should not be blushing over my scrambled eggs. I tried a different tactic. “Do you do anything else besides dismantle empires, abduct women, throw parties, and plot people’s downfalls?”
“No, that about covers it.”
“Maybe you should get a dog or something.”
He snorted into his coffee. “Find my hobbies distasteful, do you?”
“I’m no judge. Mine include felony activities, and too little sleep.”
“And an over consumption of caffeine,” he reminded me.
“That too.”
We fell into silence and I focused on my food, letting him eat in peace. When he got up and walked out without another word, I thought I missed something. I stared until he disappeared into his office, then a whole other thought popped into my mind, a whirl of memories cascading. My body heated up from the inside. I put down my fork, poured more coffee, and sat back. Should I feel some kind of way right now, about last night, about him walking away? He apparently didn’t.
I took my coffee into my room and sat on the bed, staring at the wall, the same wall I had before.
