Page 17 of The One Bed Rule
“Coffee?” I offer her the cappuccino and watch as her lips pull up in a lazy smile. “Cappuccino. Skim milk,” I say with a sweetness that I know is unnecessary. Part of me simply wants to see her face when I nail her coffee order.
She fluffs the pillows behind her, resting her back so she can sit up, and reaches for the cup like it’s a lifeline. I hand it over,trying not to laugh at her caffeine dependency, and put my own mug on my bedside table.
“You know my coffee order,” she states, taking a sip.
“Well, I think I heard someone get yelled at over it while attending a meeting you were also at.”
Her head is on a swivel, looking at me. “I never yelled at anyone over coffee.”
“No. Not like that. More like they didn’t want to disappoint you or rub you the wrong way, so they were doing the pre-yelling, because someone else messed it up.” I clink my mug to hers and take a sip of the americano—smooth, strong, and perfectly warm.
Tilting her head, her voice is less urgent this time. “Oh, okay. That makes sense.” She takes another drink from the mug, and I can’t help but admire her lips.
This is the part of Claire I’ve always found interesting. I’ve really never heard her yell at anyone, not even raise her voice, but people act like she’s someone they certainly don’t want to cross. It’s like, you just get it. You accept that she’s in charge, she knows what’s going on, and she will take no shit. I like that she can hold her own.
It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.
Fifteen
Claire
Notonlydoeshedeliver earth-shattering orgasms, but he also brings coffee. How is this man single? It makes no sense to me.
The heat has tried to kick on since we’ve been back in bed, but it only runs for a minute before turning off—likely not having enough power to really make a difference. I’m cursing the lacy lingerie I packed because this isn’t the time for it. My hands hold the mug like it’s precious, not only for the jolt of caffeine but also for keeping my fingers from turning into icicles.
“Come on, I know you want to get closer,” Seth teases, an arm open.
I slide over, careful with my mug, and sink into him, warmth radiating from his body.
The memories from last night hit me and bring a flush to my cheeks. Hey, a little morning embarrassment may be perfect when you’re trying to get warm. I’m quiet as I mentally run through it again.
Why am I embarrassed? I shouldn’t be. We’re two consenting adults… who feasted on each other like there was nothing else to eat. I fucking woke this man up in the middle of the night because I couldn’t stop thinking about him in my mouth. This feeling of not being able to get enough is new for me. Typically, I can hook up with someone and it’s sometimes so mediocre I’m thinking about something elseduringthe act. Sort of thought that’s how most of these things went. Until last night.
Plus, he started it.
And by the look of what’s happening outside, and what I’ve read from the news outlet, the one bed rule might be in play for another day.
What a shame, I think, and immediately start laughing to myself. Surprised that my anxiety isn’t skyrocketing, thinking about my plans being derailed another day. Luckily, I have nothing scheduled that can’t be moved. Willow already texted me when she noticed my location was somewhere in North Carolina, not back in the city.
She asked me to send her photos of outside because she didn’t believe it. The snow dances as it falls, pretty against the mountain and trees in the background. The sun is starting to show through, making the flakes look like glitter that’s trickling from the sky.
I move, a little sore from last night’s festivities, and start to giggle. It’s like there’s this secret between us and I wonder if one of us will break first. Will we talk about it? Or will we move around each other like he didn’t come in my mouth and then ask me to show it to him?
“What’s so funny?” Seth asks just as my stomach starts to growl. “Okay, food next.” He closes his eyes and sits back against his pillows.
I do the same, the heaviness of the blankets making it hard to think of getting up, even for food. The way we can simply betogether, the quiet swirling around us, is remarkable. I’m the type of person who reads menus before going to a restaurant, plans out where to park or be dropped off if I’ve never been somewhere before, or gets into a hole of reading reviews of a place before finally booking. I like to know what’s coming next and be mentally prepared.
This is the opposite of that.
Well, I did immediately look at the weather and come to terms with the fact that we’re not getting on a plane today, and I’m certainly not ready to get into a car with the roads like this. No. No way. I’m good. At least for now.
Sethisinthekitchen, making us breakfast, when Jess finds me sitting at the table. She’s holding something as she says, “I heard you say you were stuck from Florida. I found these in storage.” She unfolds a crewneck sweatshirt with the inn’s logo on the front. “I guessed on sizes, but if you’re interested, they’re yours.”
I reach for the smaller size, the fabric plush and soft underneath my fingers—this is a good sweatshirt, especially when I’m wearing one of Seth’s long sleeves and my dress pants.
“Thanks. You can charge them to the card we used at check in,” I suggest while folding the two sweatshirts up and stacking them on the table.
Shaking her head, she presses, “No way. Seth is making my breakfast and this is less than an ideal stay. Don’t you worry about it.” Her shoulders shrug.
