When the trembling, quivering, and pleasure-consumed messes that we are finally come down, Lex allows me to collapse on the mattress before slumping next to me, as sweaty, disoriented, and overwhelmed as I am. He always looks puzzled after sex, as if something about it constantly surprises him.
As much as I want to linger in bed with him, it’s time to get ready. “Iris, what time is it?” I ask, wondering how late we are.
“Good morning, Andrea. It is 7:03,” the AI answers.
“What! Lex, how early is your alarm set up?”
“Six thirty. I like to get a workout done before I start the day.”
“You mean I could have slept an extra hour?!”
He chuckles and presses a kiss on my lips. “But then we wouldn’t have had the time for what just happened.”
He gives me another peck, and I focus on keeping my mouth closed, not wanting to expose him to my morning breath. Especially since we didn’t brush our teeth after the quick stop at his fridge.
“When I come back you better not be asleep, Andrea,” he warns. His tone makes my toes curl more than it scares me. I lie there in post-nut bliss while he heads to the bathroom to get ready. When he comes back, all dressed, he rips the duvet from my spent body and forces me to head there.
When I enter the marbled room, I grimace at my reflection. My curls are all over the place from getting wet during that middle of the night shower followed by hair-messing slex. My skin isflushed, what’s left of my makeup is runny, and I have two giant bags under my eyes. It’s a miracle he still wanted me this morning. Maybe it’s why he took me from behind. That, or because of how he adores my ass.
Really, it’s a fifty-fifty split in the probabilities.
Once I’m ready, I join him and prop myself up on the kitchen island, purposefully sitting on the very spot where we had sex for the first time. He notices and gazes at me with intensity, his eyes darkening. Apparently unable to resist, he comes to me and gives me a long, deep, and longing kiss. I took a moment to quickly brush my teeth, and his minty flavor proves he did the same.
“I think I preferred when you smelled like sex,” he says, the tip of his nose grazing the column of my throat as he inhales.
“No one else in the office would have appreciated me reeking of sex.”
The touch of his tongue between my collarbones startles me, and when he drags it up to my jaw, all sorts of shivers run under the heated skin. “That way, you aren’t rid of all traces of me,” he states, returning to his task.
After I recuperate from his surprising fit of possessiveness, I watch him prepare our first meal of the day. It’s very entertaining to see him in his natural habitat. He already prepared two bowls of granola, two glasses of orange juice, and two plates with toast and lean ham. He’s just done with a large portion of scrambled eggs, which he separates in equal amounts on the plates.
“Thank you,” I say as we sit down, eager to dig in. “I usually don’t take time to eat in the morning, but I definitely should.”
“I can’t start the day properly if I don’t have my routine breakfast.”
“You eat exactly this every morning?” I ask while buttering a piece of toast.
He nods and takes a bite of his eggs. “I’m a man of habit and like to stick to them.”
It’s pretty much in character since he is rather rigid and disciplined. His apartment is spotless, his desk is always organized and neat… Something I never realized before it suddenly dawns on me.
“Do you have OCD?” I impulsively ask.
He freezes with his fork halfway up to his mouth, taken aback. “I don’t. If anything, I’m closer to OCPD.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Obsessive-compulsive disorder is unwanted and involuntary, while obsessive-compulsivepersonalitydisorder results from my own desires to keep things neat, organized, and repetitive.”
“Oh, I see. So you’re actually fine withfollowing the same routines and all.”
“I always preferred it that way. But I have been working on shaking my monotonous ways lately. It’s going quite well, and you help a lot,” he adds.
“How?”
“For the first time in my life, I had to put up with having a messy desk, which was surprisingly tolerable.”
His explanation has me chortling with embarrassment, hiding the redness of my cheeks behind my hands. The sheepish look I offer apparently charms him, and he pushes my hand away to grant me an indulging peck.
