Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I didn’t know what to make of it.
I didn’t want him to go. That much was certain. But I also knew I needed to be careful. Simon hadn’t made me any promises. For all I knew, this was just a hookup to him—a convenient release of the tension that had been building between us for weeks.
I’d given my heart away before. To Eli. And I remembered all too well how it felt when that had fallen apart. I couldn’t let that happen again, and certainly not with my boss.
We’d already complicated things by sleeping together. That was something we’d have to address eventually—the messy intersection of our working relationship and whatever this was becoming. But not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to enjoy this. Enjoy him. And just… be smart about it.
Could I separate the emotional from the physical? Keep my heart protected while still allowing myself this pleasure? I wasn’t sure. My feelings for Simon had already evolved past anything simple or casual. But I could try. I could guard myself while still seeing where this led.
“Yes,” I said quietly, giving him a soft smile. “I’d like you to stay.”
His arm tightened around me, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead—it felt both tender and meaningful. I closed my eyes and let myself drift, wrapped in his warmth, refusing to think about tomorrow.
Tonight, this was enough.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Simon
I woke to an empty bed and the scent of something savory drifting through the apartment.
Raina had slipped away a while ago—I’d felt the mattress shift when she got up, heard the bathroom door close and the shower run. For a moment, I’d considered joining her, imagining the water streaming down her body, the surprised gasp she’d make when I stepped in behind her.
But I’d been so content.
That was the word for it, wasn’t it? Content in a way that felt foreign to me, almost unrecognizable. I never stayed the night after sex. Never allowed myself to linger in a woman’s bed, wrapped in her sheets, breathing in her scent. I always left before things could become complicated—before expectations could form.
Yet I’d drifted back to sleep in Raina’s bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Now, fully awake, I heard movement in the kitchen. The clatter of dishes. The soft thud of an oven door closing. My stomach growled in response to the delicious smells permeating the air.
I got up and took a quick shower, pulling on my jeans afterward but leaving my shirt behind. Barefoot, I padded down the hallway toward the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.
Raina stood at the counter with her back to me, now pulling a casserole dish from the oven. She was wearing a well-worn sleep shirt that hit mid-thigh, her legs bare beneath it, her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She was just… wonderfully, perfectly her.
My heart did something strange in my chest—a twist, a flutter, something I couldn’t quite name.
These feelings weren’t something I was used to navigating. I’d spent years compartmentalizing relationships with women, keeping things strictly physical, maintaining clear boundaries. I didn’t ask to spend the night. I didn’t linger for breakfast. I left before intimacy could deepen into anything more complicated than mutual satisfaction.
But now that I’d had Raina, now that I knew what it felt like to hold her, taste her, fall asleep with her body curved against mine, I couldn’t imagine letting her go. Couldn’t imagine letting this go, whatever it was becoming.
I sensed walls with her, though. Understandable, given our working relationship. She was being careful, protecting herself, and I couldn’t blame her for that. Whatever happened between us going forward would need to be navigated delicately.
Especially since I was still trying to make sense of my own feelings—feelings that were entirely new to me.
I pushed off the doorframe. “Whatever you made smells incredible.”
Raina turned, and her eyes immediately dropped to my bare chest. She bit her bottom lip, and the way her gaze traveled over me—slow and appreciative—made me have to forcibly restrain myself from crossing the room, throwing her over my shoulder, and carrying her back to bed.
“It’s an egg casserole,” she said, recovering quickly, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. “Cheese, sausage, mushrooms. Nothing fancy, but it’s filling.”
I smiled. “Sounds perfect.”
She gestured toward the coffee maker. “I made a fresh pot of coffee. Help yourself. Cups are in the cupboard and cream in the refrigerator.”
I moved to the counter and poured myself a cup, then added a splash of cream, taking a moment to appreciate the simple domesticity of it all. Raina set the casserole on the small table, and I joined her with my coffee, sliding into the chair across from hers.
We served ourselves in comfortable silence, and for a few minutes, we simply ate. The casserole was delicious. Hearty and flavorful, exactly what I needed after last night.