She walked over to the king bed and sat down at the foot of the mattress. His eyes widened. “I like it,” she said, looking into his surprised gaze. She smoothed her hands over the colorful quilt atop the bed and then patted the space beside her. “Join me.”
He cleared his throat and crossed to sit next to her, his thigh pressing against hers as he got comfortable. Diesel took her hand and kissed her fingertips once more. He pushed out a long sigh as if trying to decide whether to grant her fondest wish or pretend her motives weren’t of the wicked variety.
Juliana didn’t want her intentions to be misread. She turned toward him, wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed his mouth hard and deep to ensure he knewexactlywhat she wanted.
When she pulled him down so they were both parallel to the surface of the bed, he broke the kiss and stared deeply, passionately into her eyes. The look she saw solidified the idea that he’d figured out what she was after. His next eager kiss told her he wanted the exact same thing.
Diesel woke up slowly the next morning. Before he even opened his eyes, the sluggishness in his entire body was conspicuous. He didn’t feel bad or like he was getting sick, but something was very different.
He was face down on his belly, just as he normally slept, but when he managed to crack open an eyelid, he didn’t see his bedroom. Both eyes popped opened wider as he tried to figure out where he was. The space was both familiar and alien, and yet not the master bedroom in his home.
Where am I?
He saw the stairs leading into the attic space of his former bedroom, and then a whole rush of important memories shot into his brain like a cannon blast of information.
Last night. Juliana. Magical.
He couldn’t even think in full sentences. A flood of images and memories overwhelmed him, at least making him wake up faster. He lifted to his elbows, searching the bed for Juliana, but he was alone. He looked to where he knew he’d tossed Juliana’s shirt last night, but it wasn’t there.
Where is she?
Diesel climbed out of bed, searching every corner of the room. She was not here. He looked inside the small bathroom, but she wasn’t there either. He retrieved his clothing—strewn about the room during last night’s captivating events—and put yesterday’s outfit back on along with his boots. As he tied the final lace into a bow and tucked them into the ties, he heard a noise downstairs in the area of the kitchen.
The scent of coffee wafted its way upstairs to tease him with the desire to follow the trail and find some caffeine goodness.
Juliana was seated on a stool at the end of the kitchen island near the coffee pot. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming cup and she sipped the edge carefully. More images from the night before flashed in his brain. Juliana was extraordinary.
“Did you save any for me?” he asked, hoping not to startle her.
She didn’t jump. Her gaze slowly lifted to where he stood in the doorway. She smiled the moment she saw him.
Nodding, she said, “I did. I made a whole pot. I hope you don’t mind me rummaging around in here.”
“Nope. I appreciate it.”
“I really can’t function well until I’ve had at least one cup.” She took another careful sip and sighed out loud in apparent bliss.
“We have that in common,” Diesel said. He strode over to the cupboard with the mugs, snagged a large one and poured himself a cup that looked hot and strong, just the way he liked it. He took a quick mouth-burning sip to get some caffeine into his system and seated himself across from her on another stool at the kitchen island.
They peered over their coffee cups at each other. He smiled. She smiled back.
Diesel wasn’t sure what to say. His sleep-muddled brain made the smart decision not to speak until the connection to his mouth was better established.
She nodded at his mug. “Does it taste okay?”
“Perfect.” They each took another sip. His stomach was about to make a noise and he remembered something he’d forgotten to do the night before.
“It just now occurs to me that I never made you dinner last night. I’m a terrible host. My belly is about to rumble. You must be starving.”
A wistful smile shaped her lips. “You aren’t a terrible host. What we did last night was way better than dinner and we did share three incredible courses.”
Diesel grinned. He reached out and brushed his fingertips over one of her hands, which was still wrapped around her coffee mug. “You’re right. All three courses were truly spectacular. But my stomach is about to make a really ugly noise.”
“When I was looking for coffee, I also searched around a bit in here. I’m afraid it’s slim pickings. And my stomach noise may rival yours.”
Diesel went to the pantry and came back with a box of granola bars. “Here is something to tide us over until I can make real food.”
