I’m going to figure it out because I meant what I said last night. Every fucking word.
I whisk the eggs and add a little salt and pepper. If she had some shredded cheese, that would be perfect. She’s always liked her eggs cheesy. But her fridge is basically empty.
Her eyes sear into my back as she watches my every move.
“I can feel you watching me. Is there something you want to talk about?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she answers. Then there’s a beat of silence. “What do you want me to say?”
“Whatever you’re thinking.” I pour the eggs into the pan. “You’ve been somewhere else since I walked in here.”
“I don’t know what this is,” she says finally. “I don’t know what last night means or what today is supposed to look like or?—”
“Sawyer.”
“Like how are we just here making eggs like everything is?—”
“Sawyer.” I set the whisk down and turn around.
I cross the kitchen slowly, watching her arms drop to her sides. When I reach her, I tip her chin up with two fingers, making her look at me.
“What I told you last night, I meant it. Every single word.” She searches my face with that cautious expression but I hold her gaze. “I’m not running. Not this time. And neither are you.”
I drag my thumb down her bottom lip, and my cock twitches at the sight of it swollen and pink from last night. From me and my mouth claiming her.
She breathes heavily, her eyes darting from my eyes to my lips. I lean in slowly, giving her time to back away, when she doesn’t I brush my lips across hers. A small taste of everything she’ll get from me.
She makes a soft sound against my mouth, testing my self-control.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Her eyes are still closed, lips parted. So perfect, I have to force myself back to the eggs before this batch burns too.
“You’re insufferable,” she says after a few moments.
“Yeah. But lucky for me, you love it.”
We eat while I ask her what she has planned for the day. I’m disappointed when she says she has a shift that evening. But I guess it’s better that I don’t come on too strong. Not yet. We’re both still grieving in our own fucked up ways. Still living with the trauma and aftermath of the accident. She doesn’t need this thing between us to be a cause for more stress.
And unfortunately, until this deal goes down, I can’t take this relationship out in the open. Not until after, when I can end things with Ella.
She pushes most of the eggs around on her plate, and I bite my tongue, instead of telling her she needs to eat. I know she fucking hates to be pushed when it comes to food.
“So, elephant in the room?” she asks.
I look up, swallowing a bite. “Which one?”
“Ella. Your girlfriend.”
Well, fuck. Apparently, Sawyer’s not only perfect in every way but also a mind reader.
I get up to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, grabbing one for her as well. “What about her?”
She blows out a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just wondering when you’re going to end things?”
Her tone is clipped, and I get it. I wish I could be honest with her, but I can’t. Not with this. It’s the one fucking area of my life I have to keep guarded. She’s still David Thorne’s daughter. I may have gotten it through my thick skull that she had nothing to do with his embezzlement, with him ruining us, but I can’t trust her not to run to Daddy with information that would incriminate my family’s business. We’d never survive that, especially not now.
I hand her the water bottle, and she sets it down next to her plate, questioning me with those blue eyes.
“Soon,” I say, trying to push every ounce of truth I can into that one word. “Very soon, Sawyer. I promise.”
