Page 83
Nothing about me, about this, is natural. It’s six in the morning, and I’m already dressed, my hair styled and diffused, my makeup done. By this time of day, I’m usually fast asleep or daydreaming in bed.
“What are you doing?” He squints in my direction, the words slow and groggy. “Come back to me.”
Tempting, especially when I can see his biceps—where does he hide those big things?—rippling, his bare chest on full display.
I bite my lip for a moment. Considering. But.
No.
I point over my shoulder with my thumb. “I have to go to work, and your glasses… I think we left them downstairs. I’ll go find them.”
“Work?” He shakes his head. “We can drive together.”
That would make sense, wouldn’t it? Save some gas. But then he would have to drive me home, and I would probably invite him inside, and we would start this messy cycle all over again.
So, it’s probably better if I leave now. Soon.
“No, no. It’s fine.” I wave a hand and step out, each floorboard creaking as I go. Traitor. “I’ll see you at work. You can grab breakfast—I don’t know what there is—”
“Aurora. Come on.”
My face is blazing as I run out of my own house.
It’s unthinkable. I let a man run me out of my own house. Then again, the cottage has always belonged to him more than us, listening to his every whim. He’s the one the door opened for. Not me.
I still don’t understand why.
Usually, I have lunch in the office, but I need a breath of fresh air. Sterling is wearing the sluttiest thing a man can wear in the middle of autumn: he’s rolled his sleeves up, and his ass in those pants? Unthinkable. I know he’s doing it on purpose. And his beard. He must have gone home to get ready, because he totally trimmed his beard. His glasses are looking extra slutty—is that even possible?
Gods, I need to breathe. His scent—pine trees and leather and moss—is too much for me right now.
So, as soon as my lunch break comes around, I shuffle out of the office and run to the café.
Farrah. I need to talk to Farrah. She’s behind the counter as soon as I slip inside, and she fixes me with a curious stare. “Have you been working out?”
I touch my hair. “I—no. Why?”
“You’re flushed.”
“Oh. Yes. I went for a run.”
“But you said no—”
“Anyway.” I dig around my star-shaped purse. “I-I’ll have my usual.”
Maybe coming to her was a bad idea. I can’t exactly tell her about this at work, and does she really want to hear about her brother calling me a good girl and filling me with his cum? Of course, she doesn’t. No one wants to hear about that, actually.
Better to keep it to myself.
“Okay,” she says slowly, wearing a confused smile. “Do you want some extra ice, or something?”
“What?”
“Because you’re hot.” She gestures vaguely, laughing. “Seriously, what’s going on with you today? It’s like you’re on another planet.”
“Oh, you know.” I point at the ceiling. “The stars.”
“Ah. Mercury Gatorade, or whatever?”
