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She follows my lead.
“And now, it’s caveman time again,” I tell her. I throw her over my shoulder, and this time she’s sweaty and sticky, but I don’t care. My heart pounds fiercely in my chest as I carry her to my bathroom, and with every beat the words Ruby James, Ruby James, Ruby James, thunder in my ears.
27
RUBY
I’m not in my bed. This bed smells like expensive men’s cologne and sweat and sex, and the sheets feel like a million dollars. Also, the pillow isn’t lumpy, so it can’t be mine.
I crack one eye open, and it’s a split second before I remember that yesterday I apparently lost my mind and let Paxton Saul sex me until I couldn’t see straight.
Three orgasms. I mean, wow. Holy guacamole. That man can do things with his tongue and fingers and cock that should have the same classification as heroin. Illegal and dangerously addictive.
Everything on me aches like I just ran a triathlon, but with the bonus of a pleasant post-orgasmic haze.
“Are you awake?” I murmur. No answer. Eyes half closed, I reach out and pat the bed next to me and don’t feel anything. With a groan, I roll over to the side and see that Pax’s side of the bed is empty.
An uneasy feeling whispers through me. Did he... leave? Did he get what he wanted and then bail? I don’t see a note saying, Thanks for the sex. See yourself out. Or anything like that. Maybe he was so appalled that he didn’t even bother to write a note?
Would Paxton do that to me? After everything he said last night?
I don’t think he would—but would it matter? Or would it just make things easier? I mean, what just happened between us? I opened myself up in ways that I have not opened myself up to anyone, ever, and then I panicked at the thought of him leaving me, and... doesn’t everyone leave me, in the end?
I hear the sound of footsteps padding down the hallway towards me. The door swings open, and Paxton pokes his head in. He’s wearing red boxer shorts and nothing else. He looks good enough to eat, or at least lick from head to toe. His hair is adorably tousled, and he’s grinning from ear to ear. “Morning, glory,” he says. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Should I be worried? Aren’t you notoriously terrible at cooking?” I brush my tangled hair out of my face.
He replies with a rueful smile. “You got me. I am making coffee, so that was not a lie, because coffee is part of breakfast. I am average at making coffee. I have a Keurig, so it’s kind of hard to screw that up. I ordered breakfast delivery, and it will be here any minute, and then I’ll put it on plates and let’s pretend that I cooked it. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, strawberries, cheese omelets, and lox bagels okay with you?”
“Wow,” I marvel. “Are you trying to feed a whole football team? That’s more than okay.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.” He walks in holding my phone. “I got this out of your purse. It keeps making unhappy text noises. It sounds like someone is desperately trying to get ahold of you. I don’t think it’s your sister, though. If she couldn’t get ahold of you, she’d just call me and yell at me.”
I glance at my phone’s screen. “It’s my roommate. She’s not used to me vanishing. I need to call her so she doesn’t freak.”
He nods. “Take your time. I can also deliver breakfast in bed... among other things.” Pax winks at me and walks back out as I call Clair.
“I’m not dead,” I say when she answers the phone.
“Well, you never came home, and you always tell me if you aren’t coming back for the night, so what was I supposed to think? Are you kidnapped?” Clair sounds exasperated.
“No, my net worth isn’t high enough to make me a good target.” I yawn and stretch.
“Are you in jail?”
“Jeez, that was once,” I say indignantly. “You get busted by the po-po one single time, and the reputation travels with you for life.”
“It kind of does,” she agrees. “That’s why I like hanging out with you now. It makes me feel dangerous and daring. I’m living on the edge.”
“Except it turns out I was framed, so you aren’t hanging out with a criminal mastermind,” I point out to her.
“That makes it even more exciting! It’s like a made-for-TV movie,” Clair enthuses. “She was an innocent college student—caught up in a high-stakes heist with life-and-death stakes! Wait—I said stakes twice; my pitch needs work.”
“Okay, crazy, you go work on it. Thank you for caring enough to call me...” I check my phone. “Eleven times.”
“I was getting mildly hysterical. My next steps were your sister, and then the National Guard.”
“Do not get my sister all worked up over nothing. Doctor Ruby James prescribes two chill pills. Bye.” I hang up.
