Every part of me throbs from last night, but it’s a good pain, a satisfying pain like the ache from an extremely satisfying workout.
Sitting at the kitchen table after showering with Bradley, I nurse a mug of warm, sweet tea to soothe my throat and study Bradley’s rippling, muscular back as he flips pancakes on the stove. The remains of last night's dinner sit steeping in the sink and as the warm scent of pancakes fills the air, my stomach grumbles slightly.
A throb pulses between my legs, matching every beat of my heart, and I squeeze my thighs together to amplify the sensations. Last night was incredible. Bradley took me to the very brink of everything and then pushed me right over. I’ve never come that much with anyone, ever. Never had someone go down on me so much and eat me out like there’s a feat between my legs. Bradley was like a man possessed and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
Right now, if I squint, I can pretend we’re a real couple about to have breakfast together in a cute little life where the most stress I have comes from a mortgage payment and making it to the market before all the good produce is gone.
“Chocolate?” Bradley asks, drawing me out of my fantasy and holding up a small bag of chocolate chips. “Or Blueberry?”
“Ooh, chocolate. I don’t like blueberries.”
“Really?” He squints at me with a soft smile.
“Yup. I like blueberry-flavored things, but not blueberries. The one time I tried them, they were so freaking sour.”
“Sounds like you had a bad berry.”
“Maybe.”
Bradley pops something in his mouth, flips a pancake, and then turns again. As he walks toward me, his eyes sparkle and my heart lifts as he reaches me, places two fingers under my chin, and tilts my head up. The moment our lips meet, my mind is soothed into blissful silence, and I sink into it until his lips part and his tongue snakes into my mouth, carrying a blueberry. I blink slowly while the kiss breaks and his brow lifts.
“Better?”
Obediently, I crunch down on the berry and while the tart juice that darts across my tongue is much sweeter than the berry I tried, it’s still not for me. My nose scrunches and I laugh softly. “Sweeter, but no.”
“Damn,” he sighs softly, then kisses the tip of my nose. “I tried.”
This is all far too romantic for a man who was just supposed to give me sex, right? As he returns to the stove and saves thepancakes from the heat, I shift in my seat and sigh. It’s all so sweet and yet it’s not real. There’s no way Bradley has feelings for me. He was just being nice.
As nice as any guy who will fuck to make you feel better.
Apparently.
My sigh brings Bradley’s attention back to me and he sets a plate of pancakes in front of me. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” I reply honestly. “But it’s a really good sore.”
“And up here?” He pats my head while passing toward the fridge.
“Quieter.”
“That’s good.” He returns with some orange juice and sets it down next to me. “Eat.”
The first mouthful is like biting into a cloud and my eyes close over in bliss as the buttery sweetness collides with the chocolate and makes heaven in my mouth. “Amazing.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Thank you.” Opening my eyes, I catch his gaze as he moves to make his own. “For this. For last night. I’m… I’m really sorry I hit you. And tried to hurt you.” A pulse of hot guilt rises in my gut. “You didn’t deserve any of that because all you’ve tried to do is help me. I’m really sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“But I?—”
“Zira.” He fixes me with a calm stare and moves his mixing batter from the counter to the table. “I brought you here because I knew you had a lot bottled up. And that’s what it took to get it out of you. I was prepared and I’m glad I could help. I don’t hold it against you and we worked it out. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
The urge to argue back rises in me like an obsession because there’s no way he’s just forgiving me like that. I have to earn it. I always have to earn it.
“But Bradley…”
