Page 82 of Ink & Desire
I laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as nervous as I feel. Corbin just watches me as I pour coffee into a mug he hands me and I add cream and sugar. I take a too-large sip and scald my tongue, wincing.
“Shit. Ow.”
His brow quirks up in a sign of genuine amusement. “Are you always this chatty when you wake up?”
I sigh and set the mug on the counter. “No,” I say. “But then again, I don’t usually have anyone to chat with in the morning, so who knows. Maybe this is who I really am.”
He fakes a shudder. “The horror!”
My mouth drops open in outrage. “Rude!” I shove his shoulder playfully. “And after all the things I let you do to my body last night? This is the thanks I get?”
Corbin laughs and pulls me against him. I struggle the slightest bit, but we both know it’s just for show. Something in my chest melts just the tiniest bit and I want to fight against it, but I can’t. I’m no match for a Corbin who’s being sweet and funny. He wraps his arms around me, and I can’t help but lean into his warm embrace. I feel him sigh against me as we stand there, the tense muscles in his back relaxing with every second I’m in his arms. There’s nothing sexual about this hug. It’s not a prelude to something more. I get the feelingthat it’s just because he wanted to. And I can’t help but think about how I never want him to let me go. After a few seconds he releases me, and I do my best to pretend that hug wasn’t out of the ordinary for us. Picking up my coffee, I take a smaller sip this time.
“How about some breakfast?” he asks.
Part of me wants to ask him about the phone call on the balcony that so clearly upset him, but the rest of me just wants to let it go. If he wanted to talk to me about it, he would. Besides, that’s not what we do. Talking hasn’t been high on our priority list since we started this thing. So, I smile at him.
“I’d love some breakfast,” I say. “Do you cook?”
He shakes his head, an amused grin on his face. “Hell no. But I know a great cafe a block away that serves the best omelets you’ve ever tasted.”
“Sold,” I say.
His gaze tracks down to my bare legs. “Might want to put some pants on first.” His voice turns husky as he steps closer. “Not that I’m complaining about the view.”
I back away from his reach before he can slide those roaming hands under the hem of the shirt I borrowed last night.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I say. “If you touch me right now, we’ll never eat. And I’m starving.”
Sighing, he allows me to put a few inches of distance between us. “Fine. Let’s get you fed so you have the strength to let me fuck you until you can’t walk later.”
Hiswords send a delicious thrill through me, and I almost forget my hunger and the mysterious phone call. If he touches me right now, I’ll give up on the idea of food altogether. But he holds himself back and I manage to shake off my lust-filled haze.
“You’re evil,” I say.
“Yeah, but you like it, angel.”
The nickname that once sounded so derisive from his lips now sounds like a term of endearment. I can’t help the silly grin that takes over my face as I turn and walk down the hall toward his bedroom. I don’t have anything but yesterday’s clothes to put on, so I decide to skip the underwear and don my jeans and t-shirt. It’s the closest thing to a walk of shame I’ve done in a couple of years. At least I’m not sneaking back into a dorm room with the world’s nosiest roommate. Though why I ever tried to sneak anything past Cass is a mystery. It certainly never worked.
Speaking of Cass, I need to call her later and see how things are progressing with her creepy ass boss. The last time we talked had been a quick call and I hadn’t had a chance to ask her about it before she needed to go. I make a mental note to call her later this afternoon and force her to tell me the latest developments. If she hasn’t reported the asshole yet, I’ll do it myself.
I pull my hair up into a high ponytail and swipe on some of my emergency purse mascara, grateful to my mother for that one small bit of wisdom.
“A lady is never seen in public without mascara.”
I think I was 4 the first time I heard her tell me that. I’d been watching her get ready for some charity gala. She’d been standing in her massive bathroom wearing a floor-length, black gown and heels that added an extra two inches to her height. To me, she’d seemed invincible. All 5 feet 4 inches (in heels) of her. It wasn’t until I got much older that I realized she wasn’t infallible and that her wisdom wasn’t infinite.
“Ready?”
Corbin’s voice startles me back to the present and I smile at his reflection as he stands in the doorway watching me.
“Just about,” I say, swiping the mascara over my lashes.
“You don’t need that shit, you know?” he says. “You look great without it.”
Warmth spreads through my chest and I force myself not to blush like a teenager.
“Thank you,” I say, finishing up. “But I don’t wear it for you. I wear it for me.”