Chapter Seven

DRAVEN

I wake up not really knowing where I am. The bed beneath me is so soft I honestly wonder if I might be asleep at all. Maybe I’m not asleep, maybe I am dead and in heaven.

But then the doorbell rings.

Did I have plans this morning? I think I did. I’m almost sure I did…but what?

I open my eyes. “Shit! What time is it?!”

The doorbell sounds again, and I fall out of bed reaching for the things I wore yesterday. “Fuck! I’m coming! Hold the hell on!”

Stumbling down the stairs in my dirty clothes, I flip the switch allowing the shades to reveal the heavy fog of morning crowding the yard. The sight brings a contented smile to my face.

Wow…it really is beautiful here.

Ding dong!!!!

“Jesus!” I screech, opening the door. “The fuck is your deal?”

He stands there looking sexy as hell, the hint of a smile on his face. “I told you nine a.m. sharp.”

Domonic.

Of course. I forgot all about the breakfast appointment.

late,” I tell him smoothly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and flipping

with amusement. “You are late. It’s ten in the morning. There’s an alarm clock

trying not to notice how crisp and fuckable he looks

His tattoos are showing. And his muscles. And I want to put my mouth on each and every

perfume wafts toward

smell her all over him.

do

roll around for a few more minutes

eyes narrow and his smile disappears. “You got what

So, bye!” My attempt to shut the door in his face is thwarted by a bright white Nike sneaker. I nearly lose my

told you we were

grin.”No. We’re not. Have breakfast with

brow lifts in amusment. A half smile quirking

yeah? Did she mark

He startles as I throw him a sarcastic frown. His face looks

cocking my head at him warily. Then

get

his eyes downward

quip at him and slanting my eyes as I push the door closed, just

glancing left and right as if someone might jump in and save him from my wrath. “I was going to but I-,” he stops, crossing his arms over his chest

up in frustration. “Really?” I snap, stomping my foot in annoyance. “You’re just

me, his eyes are shing with perverse pleasure. “You’re jealous,” he accuses,

laugh. “No. I’m not jealous. I just don’t like you or your bitch. I never intended to come to breakfast,” I lie. I was going to, but now that

forth as if he doesn’t know what else to say. They finally fall on me and

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