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

bright silver gaze sparkling with amusement. “You are late. It’s ten in the morning.

chest and trying not to notice how crisp and fuckable he looks in white sweats and

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

perfume wafts toward me

I can smell her

angry. I can’t explain why, nor do

I wanted to roll around for a few more minutes laughing because, I got what I

his smile disappears. “You got what you wanted.

“Not you. So, bye!” My attempt to shut the door in his face is thwarted by a bright

now, calm down! Wait a minute! I told you we were going to have breakfast, and we

with a sweet saccharine grin.”No. We’re not. Have breakfast with Margo

brow lifts in amusment. A half smile quirking up as he wets his lips.

Did

him a sarcastic frown. His face looks

Then with a roll of my eyes, I

questions get stupid

eyes downward as if

quip at him and slanting my

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

have breakfast with you.” I attempt to close the door, but he pushes inside, and I throw my hands up in frustration. “Really?” I snap, stomping my foot in annoyance. “You’re just going to push yourself inside? You see? This is

“You’re jealous,” he accuses, rotating his shoulders and sizing

the couch with a laugh. “No. I’m not jealous. I just don’t like you or your bitch. I never intended to come to

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

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