We make our way downstairs in silence. I don’t miss the brush of his fingers against mine as we walk. The heaviness of what happened last night hangs between us. Should I bring it up? Should we talk about it? That definitely wasn’t done for show. What started as a relaxing hot tub soak soon turned into a hot and heavy make out session. Okay, it wasn’tjustmaking out. I dry humped the shit out of him in a lust filled haze until my orgasm slammed into me so hard, I was seeing stars for what felt like hours.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts, and I don’t realize we’ve arrived in the kitchen. Xavier leaves for the gym, and I make my way to the fridge. I’ve never been much of a breakfast person, but what usually gets me through is a smoothie. I make my way around the kitchen, finding the blender and grabbing the ingredients that I need to make the perfect smoothie. I’m pouring it into a cup when Penelope walks in, a smile gracing her face when she sees me.
“Oh Harper! Good morning! How’d you sleep?” She walks around the island I’m standing at and comes beside me.
“It was good! Those sheets are to die for, they’re so comfortable. I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud.” I take a sip of my smoothie, humming with satisfaction.
“Those are my favorite sheets too! I loved them so much, I bought a set for all the beds!” She walks over to the cupboard and pulls out a glass herself. “I hate to ask, but do you happen to have any leftover smoothie? It looks delicious.”
I look into the blender, seeing there’s quite a bit left. “Yes absolutely, I truly don’t know how to make a single serving smoothie unless it’s in one of those bullets.” Picking up the blender, I fill her cup before going to the sink to rinse it out.
Penelope and I spend the next hour chatting about the plans for the next couple weeks. She asks me what my work week will look like so she can plan the rest of the week accordingly. I give her the general idea of what my schedule looks like. I don’t have too many things booked, but there are a few things I want to accomplish.
We part our ways shortly after, and I head over to my makeshift office and begin working.
A pang of hunger brings me out of focus. My body is screaming at me that I’ve been hyper-focused on work longer than I should’ve been. A quick glance to the clock confirms what I already know. I worked all day with no break, skipping lunch. One meeting turned into another, while spending what little downtime I had squeezing in editing. When I wasn’t doing edits, I was answering emails from potential clients and scheduling consultation meetings for the upcoming year.
I look at my phone, seeing that I have six messages. There are a couple from Evie giving updates on Winnie. He seems to be handling everything well, although I feel like there were a lot of goodies given to him in bribery. That’s just something I’ll have to deal with when I get home.
The other messages are from Xavier. They start off casual, checking in on how I’m doing. As the time lapses between the messages, they become more concerned.
Xavier:How’s it going in there? Do you need anything?
Xavier:It’s getting around lunch time. Thought I’d check in and see if you’d like anything to eat, let me know.
Xavier:babydoll, you’ve been holed up in that office all day. Did you eat anything?
Just as I’m about to answer him, the office door swings open. Xavier enters with a plate of food and a bottle of water in his hand. His hair looks disheveled, as if he’s run his fingers through them multiple times. He’s got an olive green sweater paired with grey sweatpants. I mean, he has to know what he’s doing wearing those, right? How torturous that is? Does he know that’s how you make the girls pant?
He stalks toward the desk, placing the plate and water bottle beside my computer. When he straightens and crosses his arms, I can’t help but take in the way his biceps bulge and his forearms flex. The cords of his muscles move the ink that’s plastered up his arm, shifting them in a way that makes them dance.
He looks down at me, and I can’t entirely read the expression on his face. There’s a combination of concern and irritation, but I don’t know what the issue is. I won’t find out unless I say something.
But when I’m about to talk, he’s already speaking.
“Did you eat anything today?”
“Of course.” I say defensively. Of course I ate, he just doesn’t need to know that it was this morning…or that it was only a smoothie. I lean back in my chair, matching his energy when I cross my own arms over my chest. I catch his eyes drift quickly down toward my breasts, and I smirk.
“Are you sure about that?” He asks, as he uncrosses his arms, leaning forward on the desk toward me.
I place my hands on either side of my chair before I stand up, placing my hands on the desk lined up with his, mirroring his movements.
“Yup.” I put extra emphasis on the ‘p’. His eyes narrow on me, and he doesn’t say anything. I begin growing uneasy with the silence. I shift slightly, but refuse to break eye contact.
He moves closer, bringing our faces until they’re just a breath apart. He tilts his head as if he’s going to cross the distance. I inhale sharply before he whispers against my lips. “Liar.” Xavier steps backward with a smirk on his face and nods his head toward the plate of food on my desk.
My mouth drops open, which just earns me a chuckle. He sits in the armchair that’s placed by the window before he continues. “Eat yoursupper, and tell me about your day.” He brings his right foot up, resting his ankle on his left knee. I sit back down and pull the plate toward me. I look down and see a chicken pot pie on a medium-sized plate. The steam rushes out as my fork cracks through the crispy crust, releasing its contents onto the place. The smell of comfort envelopes my senses as the first bite touches my lips. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I savor the rich, creamy taste.
“Why is everything that’s made here so delicious?” I’m already getting my fork ready for my next bite. Xavier doesn’t answer me. He just watches me eat. If it were any other situation, I would find this creepy, but there’s an almost satisfaction coming from him as I do as he’s asked.
I spend the next thirty minutes eating and telling him about my day. He tells me about his, although it sounds like he was mostly doing the same and checking in with the clinic. When I’m done eating, we go down to take my dishes to the kitchen.
We run into his parents in the living room where they are snuggling up to each other watching a movie. Xavier tries to sneak us by, but his mom catches us andinsistswe join them. To Xavier’s reluctance, we join them. He leads me over to the other couch, and plops himself down the length of the couch. In the next moment, he’s pulling me down onto his lap. A small squeak leaves my lips as I try to get off him.
“I shouldn’t be sitting on you. I’ll hurt you,” I grumble, trying to shimmy off him.
His grip on me tightens as he leans forward into my ear, whispering through clenched teeth. “If you keep moving like that, we’ll have a whole other problem on our hands.” I go still as the realization of what he says washes over me. So instead, I slide down between his legs, making it so that I’m not actually on him, I lean into him so my back is to his chest.
