Page 43 of Imperfectly Perfect

“Do you like this?”

Fallon’s groan was enough of a response, but the words were exactly what Savannah had needed to hear. “You’re amazing.”

Savannah didn’t add any pressure or take any away. She kept the motion right along with Fallon’s body as she once again twitched her hips back and forth into the touch. Savannah stayed right where she was, gazing down on Fallon as she wound up and unraveled at the simple touch of Savannah’s hand. This was one of the most beautiful things that Savannah had ever seen, this powerful, put-together woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how she was going to get it.

Fallon wasn’t afraid of anything.

Grunting, Fallon turned onto her back and shook her head. “Now I really need a minute.”

Laughing, Savannah curled up next to her and drew random patterns against Fallon’s skin. She would lie there for as long as it took for Fallon to come back to her head. Even if it was all night. Savannah didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to leave. This was as perfect as their night could get. Perhaps as perfect as the two of them could be together.

fifteen

Fallon stood in the small kitchen, staring at the coffee maker and trying to pace through where the hell Savannah might keep the coffee. Because thus far, Fallon hadn’t managed to find it. Sighing one more time, she flipped open the cabinet.

“It’s in the fridge.”

Fallon jumped, her entire body lifting off the floor so she barely came back down on her toes before spinning around to find Brinley standing in the entryway to the kitchen, staring Fallon down like she was the enemy of the state that everyone had been looking for.

“Oh, thanks.” Fallon’s heart raced, but she tried not to let it show as she reached for the refrigerator door and found the bag of coffee grounds shoved into the door. “Oh thank God.”

“Mom usually sets it to run in the morning on a timer.”

“She must have forgotten,” Fallon responded absent-mindedly as she scooped the grounds and started the machine. She needed that first dose of caffeine before she could even think about what exactly she was supposed to say to Brinley. She’d asked Savannah, and she hadn’t really gotten much of an answer. And the fact they’d done this with Brinley in theapartment was all that much more obvious now, and Fallon’s discomfort increased.

When the coffee poured into the carafe, Fallon relaxed. She turned around to find Brinley still watching her, although this time curiously rather than angrily. Now was as good a time as any, since it didn’t really happen the first time they’d met.

“I’m Fallon.” She stretched her hand out, waiting for Brinley to take it.

She was the spitting image of her mother, short with a rounded face, blonde hair that was messy and thrown up into a ponytail that probably needed the help of a brush. Fallon tried to remember how old she was, but she couldn’t bring the number to her brain. Definitely not without the aid of caffeine this early in the morning.

Brinley stepped forward and put her hand in Fallon’s. “I’m Brinley.”

“Good to meet you, formally this time.” Fallon leaned against the kitchen counter. “I didn’t realize you’d be awake so early.”

Brinley shrugged slightly and turned to the living room. “I was watching cartoons.”

“Don’t you have school today?”

“No. It’s a day off.” Brinley went to the fridge and opened the door. She stared longingly inside of it before shutting it with a sigh of her own.

“Not hungry?”

Brinley pursed her lips, her gaze locking onto Fallon’s face before looking her over, no doubt taking in the silky camisole, the skirt and bare feet. Just what was she thinking? She probably knew, to an extent, why Fallon was there, but how much of it did she actually understand?

“I don’t know how to cook.”

“Cook what?”

“Eggs.” Brinley stayed right where she was, that look direct and still. “Do you know how to cook eggs?”

“Yes.” Fallon canted her head as she looked Brinley over. She must be eight or nine. Old enough to leave on her own for a slight amount of time but young enough to still be treated like a little kid when it came to independence. Fallon hadn’t ever had that opportunity, growing up far too quickly in her house. She’d been making Monti’s bottles as soon as she was born. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Brinley’s eyes widened. “You want to teach me?”

Fallon shrugged. “If you want to learn how to make eggs, then yeah, I’ll teach you.”

“Really?” Brinley’s eyes lit up.

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