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Rising from the mattress, I mindlessly searched for the switch to the lamp. Once I found it, I turned on the light and took a survey of the mess Damon and I had made of the bedroom area of the loft.
Fabrics of all types lay all over the place, along with pieces of white silk ribbons. If Damon’s goal was to fuck me on every available surface up here, he definitely managed it.
How was I going to explain any of this to the vendors who were coming here today?
I couldn’t help but groan as I realized the person responsible for cleaning up the mess was me.
I’d tackle all this once my brain could function and focus on something other than my aching nether region and lack of caffeine. Number one on my to-do list was coffee.
I found my robe hanging from a wall, slipped it on, and then made my way to the kitchen on the lower level of the studio.
Just as I pressed the button on my grinder, Damon stepped out of the bathroom with a billow of steam behind him. His emerald eyes scanned me in that predatory way of his, sending a shiver down my spine.
No matter how much my brain wanted to resist him, my insatiable desire for him seemed to take hold whenever he was anywhere near me. Even my abused pussy was ready for action, knowing her dumbass would pay the price later.
Small beads of water dotted his shoulders, and his skin held the glow from the hot shower, making my fingers itch to touch him.
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the slow humming of the desire growing deep in my core.
“I expected you to be still sleeping.”
“I rarely sleep in. You know this.” I shifted my attention to the water kettle, filled it, and set it on the warming plate. “I’m making coffee. Want some?”
“Yes.”
I pulled out two mugs and set them on the counter.
“I also know you need a minimum of five hours sleep, or you’re piss and vinegar. And since you are leaning toward the latter side, what is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I have things on my mind.”
“As in?”
You, this thing called love, and figuring out what I’m doing with my life.
Instead of saying my honest thoughts, I said, “My collection and my plans for the future.”
“So that means us.”
“Does it?” I asked, lifting my gaze to his. “I wasn’t aware that an ‘us’ existed.”
He furrowed his brow and prowled in my direction, but I remained still, not letting him intimidate me with his presence. “Last night, there definitely was an us.”
“Is that so? Who made this decision?” I cocked a hand on my hip.
“You made that decision long ago.”
“Did I? Want to remind me when I decided this? Because as far as I know. We aren’t together.”
“It happened when you walked into that greenhouse and allowed me to claim you. I warned you to stay away. You decided I was what you wanted. Now you live with the choice.”
“It doesn’t work that way. You are the one who decided you didn’t want me.”
“I always fucking wanted you. I took myself out of the picture for you. It was a fucking mistake.”
“You can take yourself out again. You don’t get to change your mind depending on which way the wind blows.” Releasing an exasperated breath, I returned my attention to my coffee. “Besides, I don’t recognize your claim, so there is that major fact you need to acknowledge.”
I picked up my slow-drip coffee maker, positioned it, and filled the top with grounds before lifting the kettle to pour water over it. As I tipped the container, Damon’s hand covered mine, grabbed hold of it, and moved it out of reach.
