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.

the sleep from

silver gaze sparkling with amusement. “You are late. It’s ten in the morning. There’s an alarm clock on your

not to notice how crisp and

tattoos are showing. And his muscles. And I want to

then… his perfume wafts toward me and I nearly

can smell her all

do I have the right

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

his smile disappears. “You got what

you. So, bye!” My attempt to shut the door in his face is thwarted

you we were going to have breakfast, and

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

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

“Oh yeah? Did she mark you

startles as I throw him a sarcastic frown. His face

chortle, cocking my head at him warily. Then with a roll of

get stupid answers,

his jaw, casting his eyes downward

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

back of his neck nervously, 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

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

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

down on 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 breakfast,” I lie. I was going to, but now

know what else to say. They finally fall on me and he swallows

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