Darla
Iwake up to the sound of my phone ringing.
Opening my eyes is a hassle.Don’t wanna.Moby’s big, strong arms around me. I’m deliciously warm. This is the most comfortable I have ever been in mylife.Which is unusual, because my leg is usually throbbing by the time I wake up. I’ve either slept in an odd position, or my leg has been stationary too long. For whatever reason, my leg isn’t bothering me this morning. Not at all.
I fight through the desire to fall back asleep, open my eyes and take stock of my position. To my astonishment, I see that there are two pillows bunched under my knee and Moby’s hand is resting on my scar tissue, massaging the spot. Even though he’s snoring.
Buttery warmth spreads in my chest, and I wiggle my toes happily. Sure, my body is sore in other places from my rough introduction to lovemaking, but those twinges and throbs palein comparison to how my leg usually feels upon waking. Moby might be a demanding lover, but he is thoughtful. Caring.
I decide to wake him up with kisses.
Feeling giddy, I twist to face him—
My phone rings again.
That’s right. My phone.
Inwardly groaning, I snatch the device of my bedside table, an ominous feeling settling in my belly when I see my mother’s name on the screen. Not to mention, it’s ten fifteen. Wow. I can’t remember ever sleeping this late in my life. My parents are early risers, and they instilled the same routine in me.Early bird gets the worm, Darla!
Until last night, until the freedom of running off alone with Moby, I didn’t realize how docile I’ve become since the accident. Did my parents take advantage of that by pulling me further and further under their control?
Troubled, I tap the green icon and bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Darla,” my mother says in a scolding tone. “Where are you? We’re breakfasting by the pool, as outlined on the itinerary. Yet you are nowhere to be seen.”
Breakfast by the pool. Right. Ugh. “I overslept.”
My mother makes an artform out of sighing. “How disappointing that you can’t adhere to a simple schedule, Darla. Honestly.”
Moby’s form stiffens at my back. His chest vibrates with a low growl.
“Um,” I say quickly, trying to drown him out. “I’ll get dressed and come down as soon as I can.”
“See that you do. Leonardo saved you a seat.” My mother laughs lightly. “He’s very much looking forward to spending the day with you.”
Moby rolls me over onto my back, frowning down at me from above. And oh, my goodness, he’s almost golden in the morning light, his face covered in scruff, hair mussed. I slept in the arms of a ripped, golden giant. That really happened.
I don’t want to leave this bed. Not for a hundred years.
But I know from experience that if I don’t get my butt down to breakfast and take my mother’s itinerary seriously, she will show up at my door, knocking. How would I explain this seven-foot phenom with the odd dialect, who hasn’t worn a stitch of clothing since I met him on the beach last night?
“See you shortly, mother,” I say, hanging up.
“There will be no time spent with Leonardo, nor any other man, little human.” His anger visibly plummets when he looks down at my naked body, his erection stretching against the outside of my thigh. “Only with me,” he rasps, licking his lips. “While we’re on the subject of breakfast, open your thighs and let me eat mine.”
“Moby,” I squeal, blushing to the roots of my hair. “You heard that conversation. I have to get down to the pool.”
“No.”
“I will get back to the room as soon as I can.”
“Darla, you will gonowherewithout me.”
“You can’t very well come with me. You have no clothes!” I reach up and stroke my fingertips along his bristled jawline. “Maybe once we’ve spent a little more time together, you could…”
His brown draw together. “What?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, feeling vulnerable. “Meet my parents.”
