Page 89 of Opposites (Never) Attract
“Not the first time I’ve had to pull an all-nighter. A gallon of coffee will do the trick.” He stood and stretched, the bare skin of his belly peeking out between his belt and his shirt. I thought about what he’d done to me on that desk, just a few hours ago, and found myself blushing. Blushing, because all I wanted was to climb into his lap and do it again.
But work came first. His work, this time.
“I’ll make you breakfast!” I said, a little too loud. Like I was offering him gold bars or something.
“You don’t-”
“Fair’s fair. You took care of me. Let me take care of you.”
He laughed, tired but good natured, and I softened towards him even more. “You think you can handle a cowboy breakfast?”
I huffed indignantly. “I can scramble eggs.”
“Oh, honey, that’s just the start. I’m going to need some sausage.”
“Fine.”
“Bacon.”
“Sausage and bacon?” I asked. “Am I making you breakfast or giving you a heart attack?”
He walked over to me and slung his arm over my shoulders. The weight felt good as he steered us out of the study. As we walked through the hallway, to the living room, into the open concept kitchen, we didn’t see a single other soul. It was the middle of the day/morning? and we had the house to ourselves. Part of me wanted to take him back up to that queen size bed and tuck him in so he could get a few hours of sleep. Of course, the other part of me wanted to defile him on that bed. But the man had work to do, and so did I. “Add to that two bagels. Some cream cheese. Maybe some fresh fruit if we’ve got any in the house.”
“How are you not five hundred pounds?”
“I burn a lot of calories during the day, baby.” His head dipped toward me. “And a few more last night.”
I was blushing again, but as I pulled out all the food I could find and he made himself a cup of coffee, I had this thought that feeding him all that food, watching him eat what I’d made for him, was going to be disgustingly satisfying.
An hour later,three cups of coffee, six scrambled eggs, three pieces of sausage and three pieces of bacon, plus one and a half bagels covered in cream cheese, Tag finally declared himself done.
“You’re a marvel of human digestion,” I said, in real awe. While he ate, I set up notifications on my phone and checked the markets on my laptop.
“It was your cooking, darlin. I was inspired,” he said, taking his dishes from the island, where he’d eaten enough for three men, to the sink.
I shrugged off the compliment. “Anyone can do breakfast.”
“Not like that. Mrs. Walker retires and that firm doesn’t treat you right, you have a job waiting here for you as a cook,” he said. I noted that he rinsed his dishes before he put them in the dishwasher. He was a bachelor who was well trained.
When he was done, he turned and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression dark.
“What’s the matter?”
Hadn’t I fed him enough? Had something gone wrong with the markets overnight and he was just waiting until now to tell me?
“I find myself torn,” he said.
“Between what?”
“Between wanting to give you a proper kiss goodbye, or respecting your no kissing rule.”
It had been hard to keep that rule for myself last night. When he’d been buried so deep inside me, I’d felt so connected to him that the thought of not kissing him seemed strange to me. But he didn’t try to kiss me, so I didn’t ask. And in the cold light of day I counted myself lucky. We were making things difficult for ourselves all over the place. Or, at least, I was. Maybe he was fine? He seemed fine. Like filthy sex and breakfast in the morning and taking care of each other was easy peasy.
I shrugged again. “If it’s just a peck or something, that’s fine. That’s just a thanks for breakfast, friend, thing.”
“Oh,” he said, a smile stretching across his face. “I can give you athanks for breakfast friendkiss? I didn’t know those were in the rules.”
He prowled over to me and got up close to where I wasstill sitting on a stool, wrapped up in my robe. He caught both my cheeks in his big, calloused hands.
