Page 38 of Crave Me
Chapter Thirteen
Chloe
Sunday, CC’s was closed. I filled it with running errands, doing laundry and cleaning my apartment. Not that it ever got too dirty with only one person living in it.
I was meticulous to a fault, but I hadn’t always been. At some point during college, when I realized all I wanted to do was work for myself, I’d become uber-organized and goal-oriented. I threw myself into ensuring every decision I made would be successful. It was rare I had a single moment to relax.
Friday night, Simon had seen all of that inside of me, within only moments. He’d been right, too. Letting go, dropping my walls and my need to be in control, and justobeyinghad been almost as electrifying as the orgasms he gave me. I’d spent the entire weekend remembering our night, barely able to concentrate at work after his brief phone call the next morning. And while I desperately desired to take care of myself, to relieve the constant ache I’d had since I spoke to him, I also wanted to please him. But thinking of Simon and all the wicked things he’d threatened to do to me had also exhausted me.
I rarely took a day to veg out. And even though there were dozens of unmarked items on my disregarded daily to-do list, I was still dressed in flannel plaid pants and a matching button up top I’d thrown on after I woke up. I barely moved from the couch all day. I’d barely eaten, only snacking on chips and salsa while occasionally having a glass of wine, and I felt no guilt for it.
I was in the kitchen, refilling a glass of wine, when three quick raps of a knock hit my door.
I jumped, wine sloshing over the rim of my glass, and I grabbed a towel to wipe my hands. I hurried to the front door, frowning. Unannounced visitors were rare. Peering out the peephole, I gripped the towel tightly in my hand. Simon’s face was slightly blurred and misshapen due to the peephole. What the hell was he doing here?
He lifted his hand to knock again, his face looking directly into the hole where I was looking out and I unlocked the door before his fist hit it.
I pulled it open, standing in the way so I could only open it a few inches. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
My pulse thundered in my veins. We hadn’t spoken since Saturday. He’d made it clear we wouldn’t speak again until he wanted to see me naked.
He scanned my body and smiled. “I was in the neighborhood, picked up some dinner and decided I didn’t want to eat alone. Care to join me?”
He lifted two heavy paper bags at his sides. I caught the most delicious aroma of ginger and garlic and everything Asian.
Damn. It was like he’d catalogued my every weakness.
Still, I didn’t open the door for him. “I don’t understand. You said we wouldn’t talk.”
“I said I would still follow up with aftercare, and tonight, I decided you needed dinner from Huang-Mon’s.
One of my favorite places. How did heknowall this about me?
“Let me in, Chloe. I just wanted to check on you, feed you, take care of you.”
For the last week, he’d done an incredible job. He rescued me, pampered me, bathed me, fed me, and then fucked me until I barely knew my name. My heart couldn’t handle any more of his gentle care.
Still, it was Huang-Mon’s.
I stepped back and opened the door so he could walk through.
“Nice jammies,” he whispered, leaning close to me as he entered. “They hide every one of your curves but you’re still sexy as hell in them.”
I followed him, dumbfounded, as he headed to the kitchen and took control of the space like it was his own. He moved succinctly, with confidence, not wasting time on unnecessary moves. Instead of offering to help, I plunked down on a stool and drank from the wine glass I’d left on the island.
“You were in the neighborhood?” I asked. He hummed a response, popping open cardboard containers. “Doing what?”
His head lifted and he peered at me over the rim of his glasses. “Picking up dinner.”
“Where do you live then?”
He was a teacher for a high school in an eastern suburb of River Hills. Grand Rapids wasn’t large, but not small, either. I couldn’t imagine he lived downtown, anywhere near me enough to decide Huang-Mon’s, which was a local, non-chain, neighborhood restaurant, sounded like a good idea for dinner.
He scooped out rice onto a plate and glanced at me, gesturing toward the plate with his spoon. “More, please,” I murmured at his silent question. He dished out more and then popped open three other containers, digging out two bags holding crab rangoon and egg rolls.
“Help yourself,” he said, handing me my plate and sticking more spoons into the cardboard containers.
I went straight for the scallop and shrimp pad thai.
