"We didn’t sleep together," he said, coming over to me and setting the mug on the nightstand. He pulled the dress out of my hand and threw it on the floor, pulling my naked body against him. "You were a little drunk to fuck."
"We did something," I said. "I remember you going down the chimney, so to speak. Eating my cookies." I was hungover and couldn't think of any other terrible innuendos, and his hands were doing distracting things to my body.
He smirked.
"It was a very nice cookie."
He leaned down and kissed me; it was deep, his tongue tracing inside my mouth. His hand moved between my legs.
"I had my dessert, and now I want the full meal," he whispered to me.
My body remembered what had happened last night even if my mind was a little fuzzy on the specifics. All my body knew was that it had been good, and it wanted to go again.
"You know," he said, kissing down my neck to my nipples, "I think you're sober enough for a fuck this morning."
Yes, I thought, but better judgment prevailed.
"I um…" I pulled away from him and grabbed the coffee and took a sip, hoping to calm down.
"Blech," I said when I tasted it. "What is that? It's bitter and cold."
"It's iced green tea," he said. "It's good for you. It's much healthier than coffee and milk."
The booze was long gone, and I wasn't feeling as adventurous as I had been last night. The desire in his eyes scared me.
"I'm going to, uh, shower, and then I'll make you some breakfast, pile of French toast, butter-pecan maple syrup."
I slipped into what I hoped was the bathroom and closed the door. My last sight of Jack was of a slightly stunned-looking billionaire.
"What the hell?" I heard him say. To avoid thinking about him and his frankly lustful proposition, I started the shower. There was scratching at the door, and I let the husky inside with me.
"He's allowed to watch you?" Jack called out.
"He likes baked goods," I called back.
"I like baked goods!" Jack protested.
So did I, I thought,Jack's baked goods, that is. Why was I being so cautious?
"It’s a lot to take in," I told Milo. But I still felt slightly guilty.
"I'll make him something nice," I told the dog. "Maybe not French toast." I stepped into the shower. "I'll make him something savory, nice winter baked goods. He likes bacon, so maybe soup and bread? Soup and muffins? Soup baking? Soup muffins!" I said. "Bacon and cheese and potatoey muffins. I bet Jack would like that."
I felt more clearheaded after the shower. I wrapped the biggest towel I had ever seen around myself then peeked around the door. The bedroom door was closed. There was a robe on the bed. It was enormous, and it draped off of me while I pawed through his drawers looking for something else to wear. His boxers were a little snug on my hips, but they would do.
"I can't believe I showed up here without a bra," I muttered to myself. My boobs were not small and perky. They were voluptuous, to put it nicely, and needed a bra to contain them. I settled on an undershirt and a T-shirt.
"It's not like he hasn't seen it before," I told myself, running my fingers through my hair while Milo licked the lingering droplets of water off my feet.
"Feeling better?" Jack asked. He was frowning.
I walked over to him and kissed him lightly, and he held me close.
"Sorry," he said. "You were drunk. I should have—"
"I'm an adult. I can make my own choices," I told him seriously. "It's not like you hit me over the head and dragged me back to your cave. Here, I'll make you something to eat."
The pickings were slim. He didn't have a lot of food in his fridge. There were some eggs left, and I cut up the rest of the steak and added some leftover veggies and the rest of the cheese.
