Page 30 of Kept By the Loan Shark

I made a face at the idea of eggs and gestured to the box of oatmeal on the counter. Kyle had taken all of the food I had packed into my car the night of my attack and made sure all of the pantry goods had been brought to Taylor’s place. The refrigerated and frozen things had all gone bad before he could get to them. “I’ll make some oatmeal.”

“You eat your old lady gruel. I’m having a big ass bowl of Lucky Charms.”

“You’ll be hungry in an hour,” I warned.

“Which is exactly perfect because we’ll stop for breakfast tacos on the way to your first appointment,” she decided with a grin.

I grabbed a packet of oatmeal from the box and some milk from the refrigerator. Taylor handed me a bowl and spoon, and I moved to the microwave to make my breakfast. As she walked around behind me, making her coffee and pouring out her giant serving of cereal, unbidden memories of Hagen sharing kitchen space with me—at his place and mine—flashed before my eyes. It had always felt so easy and simple with him, so naturally domestic and right.

Would I ever hear his deep, soothing voice? Feel his strong hands on my body? Tremble under his talented mouth as he did wicked, dirty things to me in his bed?

The resounding coldness of the answer to those questions settled low in my belly.

No.

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