Page 37 of Wild Promises

He remembered everything. It was too bad I only remembered bits and pieces of last night. I couldn't remember what either of us said or what our agreement was.

"I'm so sorry about last night."

Xander set a plate in front of me on the counter. "Don't worry about it."

I raised a brow. "Don't worry about me getting naked in front of you? We're supposed to be friends. You shouldn't be giving me?—"

He leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. Not only were his broad shoulders and chiseled chest impressive, but he was holding a spatula. Had I ever seen anything sexier? A man cooking in the kitchen was my catnip apparently. "I shouldn't be giving you what now?"

Charm oozed out of his words. He was on point this morning.

I waved a hand in his general direction. "We don't do this."

He chuckled, lines around his eyes forming. "We don't do what?"

"This flirty morning-after routine you've got going. I'm not one of your many women."

He sobered and turned back to the stove.

I winced. "I'm sorry."

"I thought we established I'm not an easy hookup." His voice was gruff and filled with pain.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

He plated my food without responding.

It looked delicious. I picked up my fork, intending to dig in but unsure how to ease the tension in the room. "Did that really happen last night? Did I take a bath in front of you?"

"I know you were drunk, but I didn't think you wouldn't remember what we were doing. Otherwise, I never would have touched you."

I sucked in a fortifying breath. "I remember that. But I don't remember what we talked about."

Xander slowly turned so that he faced me again. "You asked me to ease your ache, and I obliged. I had no intention of doing anything else. I just wanted to make you feel good."

My cheeks were on fire, and every cell in my body was firing with the memory of what we'd shared last night. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

Xander considered me.

"I don't want to do anything to ruin our relationship. I'm sorry if last night we crossed lines you didn't want to. I shouldn't have asked you for that."

Xander inclined his head. "Did you feel good?"

The memory of the orgasm—the bliss in that moment, the look of satisfaction in his eyes as I came down from the high—flooded back to me. "Yes."

"Then that's all that mattered." He turned back to the stove, lifting the pan and letting the eggs slide onto his plate. Then he set several strips of bacon next to it and smothered them withmaple syrup. He set his plate next to mine and poured two mugs of coffee.

"I don't want to do anything that would jeopardize our friendship," I finally said, my mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton balls.

"You didn't." He set a steaming mug in front of me.

But I wasn't so sure. Ever since I brought it up, Xander was different, closed off. I missed the openness we shared. I didn't want to be one of the women he flirted with and kept at arm's length. I liked being in his inner circle. I wanted to be his friend. Didn't I?

Xander sat next to me and started shoveling the eggs into his mouth. When he came up for air, he asked, "Not hungry?"

"No. I am." I forced myself to lift a forkful of eggs to my mouth and take a bite. "Thank you for breakfast and for taking care of me last night."

Xander swung his gaze in my direction and smiled. "That's what you do for friends."

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