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.

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

with amusement. “You are late. It’s ten in

not to notice how crisp and fuckable he looks in

And I want to put my mouth on each

perfume wafts toward me and I

Margo. I can smell

explain why, nor do I have

get up. I wanted to roll around for a few more minutes laughing because, I got

narrow and his smile disappears. “You got what you

his face is thwarted by a

minute! I told you we were going to have

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

arched eye brow lifts in amusment. A half smile quirking up as he wets

“Oh yeah? Did

as I throw him a sarcastic frown. His face

you mean, what?” I chortle, cocking my head at him warily. Then with a roll of my eyes, I

questions get

casting his eyes downward as if

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

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 chest

snap, stomping my foot in annoyance. “You’re just going to push yourself inside? You see? This is why I want to

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

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 that I know she only just

back and forth as if he doesn’t know what else

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