Page 146 of Morally Black Betrothal
Lord, this was already a disaster.
It wasn’t like I could even turn this into a proper walk of shame. There was no quietly sneaking out of this giant mansion without one of his nosy brothers or some random staff member seeing, and the estate was miles from the nearest town. My only way out of here was literally a helicopter.
“Shower,” I ordered myself. “You’re going to wash that man right out of your hair and go back to being the girl he ordered like a mail-in bride to pretend for a few months. That’s it. The end.”
I’d just swung my feet to the ground when the door to the suite opened. I jumped, yanking the sheet up and around my naked body as Brendan stepped in, fully dressed in tailored wool pants and a knit polo that hugged the chest and arms I now knew came from hours of boxing out his frustrations.
He looked annoyingly good for someone who hadn’t slept more than a few hours. Still refined, but more casual, to the point where his hair was even messier than normal, like he wanted the whole world to know I’d spent the night with my fingers raking through it.
Damn. Now I was right back where I started.
His eyes met mine, and he bit back that shy smile I loved so much. “You’re awake. Good morning.” He held up a tray bearing coffee and pastries. “Hungry?”
And now the bed and breakfast fantasies were back with a vengeance.
I wrapped the sheet tighter around my body and joined him at a small table next to the living room window, which Brendan opened to let in the salty morning breeze and the sounds of seagulls coasting above the waves.
Brendan watched as I selected a flaky roll off the tray and nibbled. “Good?”
I took a sip of coffee and tried not to stare. Even the stubble on his jaw looked runway ready. I wanted to lick it. For the last fifteen minutes, I’d been mentally preparing myself for distance. Neglect. Maybe even a bit of cruelty.
Not this…kindness.
But apparently, I wasn’t the only one struggling with a bit of uneasiness.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “After the, ah, last time we…I went for a run on the beach and showered in the gym.”
I balked. When I’d caught the numbers on the bedside clock just before falling asleep, it had been nearly 4:00 a.m. Brendan had been up all night.
“When did you wake up?” he asked.
“Not long ago. What do you mean, you went for a run right after we…” Good Lord, I couldn’t actually bring myself to say it out loud.
Brendan apparently didn’t blush, but he did offer that bashful smile again. “Stress relief, remember?”
“You were stressed?” I had been a noodle.
He stretched his long legs out under the table and stared at his shoes. “You weren’t?”
“I was asleep.” I didn’t mention my spiral after waking.
“I know.” There was a pause. Then: “You’re very beautiful when you sleep, in case you were wondering.”
Something like hope fluttered in my stomach. A very dangerous thing. “So why did you leave?”
His gaze found mine, suddenly as green as the lawn surrounding the house, and quite direct. “I woke up with the taste of you still on my tongue, and it was everything I could do not to go back for seconds. Or in our case, fifths.”
I couldn’t help squeezing my thighs together. GoodLord.
He turned toward the window like we were discussing the weather. “I tried to think about something else—the stockmarket, my macroeconomics thesis, the black-bellied whistling duck. But it didn’t work. I needed?—”
“You thought about a duck?” I grinned.
“It’s a very rare bird in Rhode Island. I’ve been trying to spot one for years.” He bit his lip. “Anyway, none of it worked. All I could think about was the fact that you taste like clover honey and your pussy feels like a welcome, and it seemed pretty rude to wake you up when you’d been working so, um, hard all night. So I left you in peace.”
By the time he was finished, my cheeks felt like they were on fire. And the rest of me… Well, frankly, I wanted to lay myself on the table and tell him that he was welcome to havemefor breakfast if his cravings were that bad.
Instead, I took a really big bite of my croissant.
