30
Robyn
The alarm pulls me up out of sleep with a horrible chirping sound that digs into my brain. I slap blindly in the direction of the nightstand and miss twice before I find my phone and switch it off.
I lie there with my face half-buried in the pillow, eyes closed for a couple of seconds, and then I remember last night.
I crack my eyes open and look over to the other side of the bed. Disappointment hits when I find it empty.
Which is stupid. What is wrong with me? Honestly. He could not have been clearer at the start of this arrangement. There were to be no cuddles, no romantic dinners, and definitely no sleepovers, which suits me just fine. I am a little afraid of developing feelings for Ridge, so it’s important that we stick to the very basic rules.
I do feel like we bonded a bit last night. We talked, which was nice, since he isn’t much of a talker. Then there was pizza in bed after round three.
Then again, we did go on to a fourth round straight after, so I suppose that put it back inside the agreed terms.
Four rounds. No wonder I’m a little sore this morning. It reminds me of our first night together all those months ago.
The whole thing is insane. I rub a hand over my face and check the time. I groan into my palm. I sit up.
Yep, there’s a dull ache between my thighs.
There’s still a half-empty bottle of water on the floor by my foot, the one he opened for me last night. The pizza box is on his side table. Okay…nothisside table, buttheside table on the other side of the bed.
I’m excited about seeing Ridge today.
Not true. I’m excited about having more great sex later. I need to word things correctly.
I’m fizzing with something underneath the soreness and the minor lack of sleep. It’s a low, simmering kind of hum that I haven’t had in years, and it has to stop.
I get up and stretch. I groan a little, then I shuffle into the bathroom. A hot shower is exactly what I need, and as expected, it helps.
I dress and quickly dry my hair. Then I put on some makeup, spending a few more minutes on it than I normally would.
I’m an idiot.
By the time I’m ready, I have exactly two minutes to make it down to the lobby, and my mood has tipped over into bright. I drop my keys in my bag. I throw a yogurt and a banana into a little cooler pack. I let myself out of the apartment, double-check the lock, and head for the elevator. Smoke is in the lobby when the doors slide open.
“Morning, ma’am.” Smoke gives me a small nod.
“Morning.” I tip my chin at him.
Brutus is in the parking garage, standing next to their SUV.
We say our good mornings.
I get into my vehicle, and they pull out behind me. I’m not too weirded out by the whole thing. I guess I’m getting used to having a shadow or two.
I pull into the staff lot at the hospital, and they walk me up.
We get to my floor. Smoke moves to the bank of elevators, eyes on the corridor. Brutus heads off down the hall toward the stairwell to do his thing.
They both give me plenty of space, which is nice.
Carla is at her desk when I come around the corner. Her head pops up the second she sees me, and her eyes go wide. She smiles like she’s about to crack open.
She wiggles her eyebrows. “And?”
“And what?” I can’t keep a straight face. It’s there before I can stop it. A huge-ass grin. I drop my bag on the corner of her desk and look at her, and the grin gets worse.
