Page 53 of Bewitching Her Monsters
I can’t disagree with him about actions speaking louder than words.
* * *
I open my eyes and see the morning light filtering through the cracks of my closed blackout curtains.
And I’ve literally drooled on Arran’s spectacular chest.
It’s a chest that should be bronzed for posterity. Okay, ouch. Maybe not actually bronzed, but take a mold casting of it and make thousands of replicas. It should then be placed on display for others to drool over. But jealousy pinches my heart at the thought. I don’t want to share.
Shockingly, this Adonis is still snuggled up with me.
Man, does he run hot. He’s like a furnace. And where our bodies are pressed against each other, I’ve also sweated and now have moisture-stuck myself to Arran skin to skin.
I feel like wet velcro as I carefully pull away from him.
But he catches me as I try to lift myself off and presses us back together again. He gives me a sweet kiss on my forehead.
Finding that stupidly cute, I return his kiss under his chin.
“Where were you sneaking off to?” he asks playfully.
“Pee. Coffee. Clothes. Fur babies. Work,” I list off.
“Would you like food?” he asks.
“It will probably be on the agenda at some point today.”
His hand slides down my side to palm my hip. “How about you take care of your bodily functions and fur babies, and I can make you some coffee and breakfast?”
“Don’t you have to go?” It sounds harsh, but I don’t mean it like that.
I’m just a busy person, and I assume others have a full day too. Besides, I’m not used to the attention. Rob never wanted to hang out and make my meals. Often, I felt like an irritating obligation. As if he was forced to put in the minimum required time to get his pension package.
“I have the day off, but if you want me to go—” he says with a tint of sadness.
“You can stay… But I thought maybe you’d want to do the walk of pity this morning.”
“I thought it was the walk of shame?”
“Well, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Your performance last night was five stars. It’s apitysince I didn’t get to return the favor.”
He pulls me back by the shoulder and looks me in the eye. His brow crinkles. “It wasn’t afavor. I thought it was more than that.”
I get this guy is more sensitive than most. But he acts like I’ve known him for days, and we have a developed relationship beyond our date last night and some fantastic cunnilingus.
Normally, I would take this as a red flag, but I feel our connection, too.
Is this the comfortable feeling people talk about when they say they found their person? And dare I say it and jinx myself… my true love?
“Okay. Sounds good. Coffee and breakfast. Stat!” I say with a grin and snag my throw blanket and wrap it around me as I race off to the bathroom.
I pee and splash my face with water to wash off my sleep drool.
Why does Arran have to be so sexy and sweet? With my track record, I’m nervous that I’m going to be broadsided by some horrible, dark secret.
I remember my crazy dream last night. And I wonder if it really is only a dream. Or is it a warning he might be a raging maniac underneath a kind facade? Or am I just trying to talk myself out of falling for him? Am I just damaged from all the jerks in my life—including family and boyfriends?
I pick up my phone and open my messenger app for my small author chat group. I update them quickly about my situation.
