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

amusement. “You are late. It’s

arms over my chest and trying not to notice how crisp and fuckable he looks in white sweats and a

muscles. And I want to put my mouth

perfume wafts toward me and

I can smell her all over him.

nor do I have the right to be, but

roll around for a few more minutes laughing

smile disappears. “You got what

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

I told you we were going to have breakfast, and

grin.”No. We’re not. Have breakfast

amusment. A half smile quirking up as he

“Oh yeah? Did she mark you first?

a sarcastic frown. His face looks so frighteneed for a second that I almost

warily. Then with a roll

get stupid

jaw, casting his eyes downward as if ashamed.

were taking her home, last night,” I quip at him and slanting my eyes as I

someone might jump in and save him from my wrath. “I was going to but I-,” he stops, crossing

I chirp sweetly, flashing him my cockiest smile. “And I do not have to 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

with perverse pleasure. “You’re jealous,” he accuses, rotating his shoulders and sizing me up as he steps closer

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

himself about something, his eyes ticking back and forth as if he doesn’t know what else to say. They finally fall

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