Page 89 of Darling Obsession

“The one I’m making for you in the kitchen right now?”

I lift an eyebrow.

“Okay. The one I’ll have my staff make for you. Do you want it or not?”

“When you put it so sweetly, how could I say no?” I say sweetly. “I’ll take it to go.”

He lowers his eyelids. “Are you sure you don’t want some more of what you had last night, first?”

“Oh, no time for that. I’ve got a busy day. Cakes don’t bake themselves.”

With that, I turn and breeze into the lady bathroom, shutting the door. He has two en suite bathrooms, and this one, which would be for his partner, is sadly unused. So, I go about making myself at home.

I really like the idea of making him question whether he made a stupid move telling me that it was the last time we’d ever fuck,whilewe were fucking.

I didn’t love it.

I’m thinking yes is the answer to that question, and he now knows it.

Since he screwed me when he woke up in the middle of the night, then woke up with a hard-on this morning and thought itwould be a good idea to grope me again, maybe he changed his mind?

Nice try, buddy.

Let him miss my ass, when I take it home and keep it there a while.

This whole shtick of his—the one where he tells me over and over again that we’ll never see each other again, and then ends up inside me—is getting old.

I take my time in the bathroom, getting all freshened up to start my day. This time I came prepared, my purse stuffed with supplies for an overnighter, just in case when I showed up at his door he let me in instead of denying me entrance.

The man is all talk.

But actions speak louder than words. He doesn’t want to get rid of me as badly as he pretends.

I’m not sure who he thinks he’s fooling, but it ain’t me.

I take a long, luxurious shower, just because, then do my hair and makeup, and get dressed in yesterday’s clothes. I even brought fresh panties.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Harlan is gone.

When I emerge from the bedroom, I hear Tears for Fears playing.

I head downstairs, to the tune of “Head Over Heels,” which seems to be emanating from the back of the house. I follow the music through the foyer, and down the grand hallway in the middle of the house, the one that I know leads to a big family room at the back, because I stumbled upon it yesterday morning before finding Harlan in his office.

The music is coming from even farther back, so I continue past the entrance of the family room.

I smell fresh coffee.

The hall ends at the entrance to another room.

I step inside; it’s a giant kitchen that’s flooded with light from the big wall of windows along the back. It looks out into a lush, green backyard.

The room is gorgeous, and looks utterly untouched.

Except for Harlan, who appears to be making coffee at the counter. Actually, he’s making espresso at an espresso machine.

“What’s happening right now?”

He looks up, turns the music down to conversation volume, and continues watching the espresso pour into two latte-sized glass mugs.

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