Page 51 of Until I Find You

Fuck, it’s already half past ten. I haven’t slept this late in…I don’t remember the last time I slept this late.

The door to the room opens and Jack enters, clad in a bathrobe that’s split just enough to reveal a sliver of his chest all the way down to the top of his stomach. His dark hair is a fucking wreck in the best way because I knowIdid that. I tousled and pull and clawed my fingers through his hair last night as I moaned his name.

Well. Not his name.

In his hands are two cups of coffee. However, when our eyes meet, he freezes in his tracks.

“You’re up,” he says.

A fact. An objective truth. “I’m up.”

“I…” He steps into the room and closes the door behind him with his foot. “Brought you coffee.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “Thank you,” I say through a yawn. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jack comes to my side of the bed and sits on the edge, down by my hip. It’s a safe distance, one that makes me a tad uneasy.

Does he not want to sit next to me? Does he not want to pull me under the sheets and go another round?

I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up that last night means that anything more will happen between us.

But who am I kidding? They’re up. They’re all the way up.

I take the coffee from him, our fingers skimming each other’s. He’s put milk and sugar in mine and, when I taste it, it’s perfect.

Bringing me coffee in bed made to my exact liking? That’s Daddy energy.

“Did you sleep all right?” Jack asks.

I nod. “You?”

“Yeah, I did, I think we needed it,” he says with a wry smile.

It’s hard to look at each other very long without someone getting shy. When Jack gets shy, it’s sweet. His bashful smiles and bows of his head.

“I’m sorry I slept in,” I say. “I know we had plans to–”

“I thought we agreed, no more apologies.”

I shrug, feel the strap of my nightgown falling back into place on my shoulder. I get a flash of memory, Jack tugging it down in order to get a mouthful of my breast.

My thighs clench together. No more. Not now.

“Okay, well, I’m not sorry I slept in. Better?”

He nods. “Absolutely. You shouldn’t be sorry about last night. Not at all.”

We are quiet. Sip the coffee. A familiar thing we do.

Except it’s foreign now. We’ve never done it like this. After we’ve said to hell with it all and crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.

“We should probably talk about last night.” Jack stretches up tall, planting his feet on the floor.

I take a swig of coffee like it’s his whisky from last night. “Yeah. Probably.”

Jack rubs his chin. Bristles of budding facial hair scratch at his skin. He hasn’t shaven yet this morning. Something about that makes me swoon. He’s comfortable with me. Relaxed.

His eyes meet mine. “How do you feel?”

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