In the haste of trying to fuck his brains out, or the other way around, the last thing on my mind was dinner and whatever mess we had left behind.
Except as I look around my apartment, all of the mess that I remember being here… is gone.
No takeout containers, no piles of fortune cookies. No half-empty glasses on the coffee table.
Nothing.
My brow furrows, and I look down at my feet, where Sebastian is winding himself between my legs, begging for attention with a series of steady meows, so I reach down to scratch his fluffy head.
“Good morning, handsome. You didn’t clean all of this up yourself, did you?” I giggle when he looks at me like he’s even wondering why I’m talking to a cat.
I’m riding a high this morning that not even my slightly grumpy, attention-hogging furball child is going to take away.
He follows me into the kitchen because of course, it’s breakfast time for him, but before I can get to the cabinet where I keep his food, I notice a piece of paper on the counter next to a bottle of sweet tea and what looks like two pain relievers.
I look down at Sebastian, who gives me yet another deadpanned expression before looking back at the piece of paper on the counter. Crossing the kitchen, I pick it up and read.
Take these. It’ll help with the soreness.
And don’t even fucking think about being a brat, rolling your eyes, and ignoring me.
We’ve established what happens if you do.
My stomach flips, a smile tearing at my lips, but I keep reading.
I picked up everything from last night because your fat ass cat kept trying to get into it, and I didn’t want you to have to clean it up today.
I also fed it because it kept following me around your apartment and meowing so goddamn loud that I thought it would wake you up.
Take the pills, Maisie.
Coach
As soon as I finish reading it, I immediately read it again.
Okay, I’m not going to overanalyze this.
So what… he left a note.
With my favorite drink because he remembered. Or maybe that was a coincidence? Totally could be coincidence.
And he picked up my apartment and fed Sebastian.
Even though I know how much he is not a fan of my cat.
God, why is my heart galloping in my chest like this?
If it’s not a big deal, if it means nothing, then why does it feel like I’m a schoolgirl with a crush who is giddy over a simple, meaningless interaction?Don’tread into this, Maisie.
I take the pills. Not just because he told me to, but because he’s right—I am incredibly sore. And because when I see him again, I need to be able to have three orgasms in a row again.
Clearly, I’m turning into an addict, and I’ve only had sex two freaking times.
Shit.
I head for the bathroom and turn on the shower to a stifling hot temperature, then pull off the T-shirt that Wilder apparently put me in last night.
I should text him, right?
