Page 42 of Ready or Knot

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Logan laughs, the sound low and derisive. “Don’t thank me, Faedra. I crave you just as much as you’re craving me.”

* * *

JUDE

My phone flashes with another text from Melanie, and I don’t bother to hold back my sigh, frustration making my movements clipped as I close my bedroom door and head down to the kitchen.

You’ve been scarce. Get lunch with me.

Jesus Christ.

Before I can close the thread, another message appears.

Come on. You enjoyed the last one. ??

As if I need another goddamn reminder of my poor decision after the gala. I send back a single word and then tuck my phone into the front pocket of my slacks.

No.

The living room is still dark, the sunrise not yet illuminating enough of the sky for it to make it to this side of the building. Leaning against the island counter, I look across the mountain view, breathing deep to try and center myself. Once I’m sure the insidious self-hatred hasn’t gotten any worse, I grab one of the breakfast burritos Logan batch makes every few weeks and set it to warming in the microwave.

Three sequential vibrations tell me that Melanie’s not going to be deterred today. I silently curse her, myself, and that drunk driver as I go about getting the espresso machine working.

Three days and then I don’t have to deal with her for a solid week.

There’s a soft click of a door closing, and I glance up, my eyebrows furrowing. Who was up in the loft so early in the morning?

Faedra’s copper hair catches the light as she turns away from the door to her nest room, and my confusion eases away. Her hands are closed tightly around an impressive camera and lens. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun, a tendril of hair tracing down her neck the way I want to with my tongue. Her legs are practically bare, a navy blue satin slip hitting her mid-thigh, and I swallow a groan as I realize she’s braless, her nipples peaking through the thin material. She’s ethereal in the low light, her skin the alabaster of the snow capped mountains in winter, and my throat dries as the realization sweeps over me that she’s mine.

At least until she realizes just how fucked the situation is with Melanie and requests reassignment. Disgust sours my stomach, and I turn away, opening the door to the microwave before it reaches the end of the timer. Her soft footfalls pause on the stairs.

“Oh,” she says, her voice blending in with the quiet morning.

I plate the burrito and start to heat another one, turning once I hear her steps resume. Her movements are careful as she sets the camera on the island and walks around it, her hand twisting the tragus piercing in her right ear.

Sparkle catches the light as her fingers move. She’s changed it, the small gold hoop replaced with a flower, each petal a different sapphire gem. Once I notice it, I realize her other one is different, too. She’s added a small gold moon pendant to the hoop, the delicate chain brushing against the shell of her ear.

Fuck, but I want to follow that with my tongue, too. My cock presses against my slacks in complete agreement.

“I didn’t realize you would be up this early,” she says, biting her lip.

“Department meeting.” I explain on a rasp.

She nods as I grab the caramel syrup and milk and go about recreating my preferred coffee house drink in a to-go cup. By the time I turn back to her, my cock has decided to play nice, and I can look her in the eye without imagining the way she would look on her knees in front of me.

I hand her the plated burrito before grabbing the second one.

“What were you photographing?” I ask, leaning against the counter. My phone vibrates again, and I hold back a sigh.

“The sunrise,” she says, finishing her burrito and putting the plate in the sink. “The balcony on that side has a small section that looks over the city instead of the mountains. I was playing around with silhouetting the buildings.”

She grabs the camera and flips through a couple photos. “It’s always hard to tell on the small screen, but I think I finally managed to get the settings right for the last half dozen or so.” I move to stand beside her, running my hand down her spine before palming her hip and pulling her into me enough that I can see the camera screen, too. “I was going to add a couple of them to the groups of photos I have in my, um, nest room.”

Her cheeks bloom with a dark red blush, and her fingers twitch, her eyes dropping to her outfit before flicking to me. Setting the camera on the counter, she clears her throat and ducks her head.

“Let me go grab a sweater.”

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