Page 133 of Unraveling Rain
I wake to sunlight warming my face.
It takes a second to remember where I am, but the moment I shift my legs and feel that delicious ache between them, a smile spreads across my lips.
Last night comes rushing back.
After Xander came inside me, he carried me to bed, cleaned me up with a warm washcloth, then slipped beneath the covers and held me as we drifted to sleep.
A few hours later, I woke up aroused.
He wasn’t lying beside me anymore—his head was between my legs, making me see stars.
And to end the night on a high note, he got on top of me and made love to me, whispering how much he loves me over and over again.
I place a kiss on his chest and stretch my arms above my head before getting up.
Padding over to the pile of clothes we left by the elevator, I dig out the shirt he was wearing last night. I lift it to my face, inhaling deeply, then slip it on.
As I make my way to the kitchen, I finally take in his apartment.
It’s a one-bedroom with an open-concept living area. No dining table, just stools lined up at the kitchen island. The living room is spacious, wrapped in three-way windows.
Outside, buildings stand tall, but trees are scattered everywhere, and the bright blue sky makes it all feel wide open. It’s gorgeous.
The kitchen is compact and sleek. I open drawers and cabinets—everything looks practically untouched. I guess he doesn’t cook much. I can’t blame him. When I eat alone, I usually just grab whatever’s convenient.
Still, I want to make him a good, healthy breakfast before he leaves for morning skate.
I pull bacon, eggs, fruit, and yogurt from the fridge, then dig out my white bow from the clothes pile. After washing my hands, I get to work.
I layer a parfait and top it with granola. Then I scramble eggs, bake the bacon, and start a pot of coffee. While it brews, I toast some bread.
Xander appears in the doorway, buck naked and rubbing his eyes.
Even half-asleep, he somehow manages to look delicious. His bed hair is tousled to perfection, and a boyish grin spreads across his face when he spots me in his kitchen.
“Good morning,” he says, leaning in for a kiss.
“Good morning, Hotshot,” I reply, swatting his ass with a dish towel.
“Ow, what was that for?” he asks, grinning as he pours two glasses of orange juice.
I shrug, keeping my answer to myself.
He wraps his arms around my waist. “Shower?”
I nod. “But we have to eat before it gets cold.”
He jogs off, returning in black boxers that hug his hips just right.
I plate the food, and we sit at the kitchen island.
“What are you planning on doing today?” Xander asks, shoveling eggs into his mouth.
“I was thinking about unpacking a bit and maybe cooking? I’m not really sure. Someone left me completely exhausted last night,” I huff, faking weariness as I spoon some parfait.
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” Xander says, raising a brow.
“I’m not complaining now. I’m simply stating the obvious,” I say, and he shakes his head, amusement dancing in his eyes.
