Page 62 of Ask Me Something

Chapter Thirteen

Iwoke up alone in bed. Alone and sore. Not a bad sore, just a very thorough reminder of the fact that Brian had woken me in the middle of the night for another round. After taking a quick shower, I stepped into the bedroom and smiled at the silk robe laid out for me on the end of the bed. After donning it and some light makeup, I went downstairs where I could smell breakfast cooking.

“Hungry?” Brian grinned.

“I could eat. You cook?” I was surprised.

He came toward me in low-slung flannel bottoms and nothing else. “I do, indeed. How do you like your eggs?”

“Over hard.”

He quirked a brow, and we both laughed. “Here’s coffee. One sugar and some milk for you.” He put a big steaming mug in front of me at the breakfast table and went back to the stove.

Of course he would know how I take my coffee. “How do you remember these things?” I liked watching him move comfortably about his kitchen. This domestic side of him was sexy.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I remember little details for clients, and it makes them feel special.”

“Girls, too,” I muttered.

He came over to where I was sitting and smirked. “I’ve never remembered what girls want. Only you. Well, and Juliette, but that doesn’t technically count. She’s been my assistant for over eight years, and after she had the baby and was up nights, you’d best believe I had her coffee ready for her in the morning. She’s not a morning person, FYI.”

Laughing, I pictured it all too well. I inhaled the lovely scent of my coffee and murmured, “God, how I love you.” I opened my eyes, and it took me a moment to realize he was staring at me, stunned. “I meant the coffee. Sorry.”

A wry smile played upon his lips and he went back into the kitchen.

I let out a breath. I truly had meant the coffee, but now that we were sleeping together, it was clear that the L word was off limits, even casually. “Isn’t this the point where you tell me the next rule is not to fall in love or mention an actual relationship?”

He regarded me thoughtfully from the stove and shook his head. “Maybe with other women, but with you, I don’t think I need to worry about that.”

I tried not to let that statement bother me. So what if I’d never been in love? I’m sure plenty of women my age hadn’t. Yeah, right.

“And do I need to worry about you?” I tested, sipping my coffee calmly.

He considered my words and then gave me the typical nothing-bothers-me, Brian smug look. “What do you think?”

I shrugged, wondering if this was his general viewpoint on relationships or just regarding ours in particular. “I’m not sure. Two weeks ago I would have said that there was no way you were going to give me the best fucking orgasm of my life. Maybe I don’t know you at all.”

“Don’t say fuck again unless you want me to put you up on this counter and demonstrate it thoroughly while your eggs get cold. And you do know me. You simply weren’t aware of this side of me.”

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He contemplated before answering. “Honestly, maybe once, but I don’t know for sure, which probably means no. With love, you should be certain, right?”

“You’re probably asking the wrong person.” I’d never spoken the words romantically nor had I heard them in return.

“Which means you haven’t, not even in high school or college?”

Normally I broke things off before they got serious. I’d had one boyfriend tell me he felt like I never relaxed with him. He hadn’t been wrong. “No, I never wanted the pressure. A relationship is a lot of effort, and when I’m putting so much into my job, I guess I didn’t need the extra stress.” Trying to hide my anxiety disorder while being in a committed relationship would have been impossible. No, thank you.

“I completely get that.” He dished up my eggs, along with bacon, and placed them in front of me. Then he took the seat across from me at the table.

“So who was the maybe?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I couldn’t hide the curiosity.

He looked at me funny and finished chewing. “A girl here in Charlotte a long time ago. She moved away, and I never told her how I felt. End of story.”

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