Page 33 of Corrupted


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A COOL BREEZE slides over my skin as I shift, and my lids slowly flutter open. For one split second I have no idea where I am, but as memories from last night infiltrate my sleepy brain, I sink into the mattress, a satisfied moan catching in my throat.

I turn, and a hollow feeling seeps into my bones and takes up residency in my chest, right around the vicinity of my heart, when I find the other side of Cason’s bed empty. After that incredible round of sex against the door, we ordered a pizza and ate it in front of the fire. It was romantic and intimate, the wind whipping outside as he shared his upcoming new spring collection with me. We talked for hours on end about his new line, and afterward he carried me to his bed where he buried himself in me again. As I revel in the memories, I give a lazy catlike stretch and enjoy the ache in my muscles, some of which I didn’t even know existed. Last night was perfect, which makes me wonder why he didn’t want to be here when I woke up.

My gaze goes to the crack in the window, and I jerk upright when I find the sun high in the sky. What the heck? I check the nightstand clock. Holy hell, it’s late morning. No wonder Cason is up and gone. He probably has a ton of work to do. Work I’d love to help more with. My stomach rumbles and I can’t believe I’m hungry again, but given the time of day...

“Good morning.”

I turn, and the sight of a freshly showered Cason leaning against the doorjamb, two cups of coffee in his hands, pushes back the cold skating over my skin. Could he be any more adorable and how is it he’s getting better looking by the minute? The cool air chills my skin, and I reach for a blanket and cover up.

“A very good morning,” I correct. He gives a slow shake of his head and makes a tsking sound that has me sitting up a little straighter. My stomach tightens, “What?”

With a nod he gestures to the blankets covering me. “I was enjoying the view.”

Flutters erupt in my stomach and I relax as he teases me. “You’re kind of a creeper, Cason.” He arches a playful brow. “How often do you watch me without me knowing, anyway?”

“As often as I can,” he says and pushes off the door. He comes my way and I roll toward him as he perches on the edge of the mattress.

“Is that for me?” I ask, and he hands me the cup. I take a big sip and moan.

Cason groans and sets his cup on the nightstand. “I like that sound. Although I like it better when I’m the reason behind it.” He’s in a different mood today. Lighter. Playful. I like it a lot. He usually has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it’s nice to see the edge is gone, and his shoulders are no longer around his ears.

“I’m sure you can figure out a way to rouse that sound in me,” I tease.

He reaches out, lightly runs his finger over my mouth, and it travels lower until he’s cupping my sex. My body responds but the warmth in his eyes when he looks at me, holy hell...my heart is wide-awake now, doing the damn macarena. I set my cup down before I spill hot coffee on myself.

“I’m going to hold you to that, but we have to go out,” he says quietly as he lightly touches my sex.

I move against his hand. “What’s on the agenda today, Prince Charming? We never did get out on your boat yesterday. Is that what you’re thinking?”

“Prince Charming, huh?” He rubs the pad of his thumb over my flesh. “Is that what you want?”

I crinkle my nose. “I might be a romantic at heart, but honestly I’m not sure I believe in happily-ever-after.”

His hand leave my body and I want to cry out at the loss. I pull myself together as he reaches for his coffee and takes a sip. “You said you were a girl who wanted to marry for love,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I know...”

His brow rises. “But you don’t believe in happily-ever-after?” he asks, his head angled, his look dubious.

Dammit, I hate that he can see right through me.

“That’s right.”

He nods slowly. “Then I guess we have that in common.” Once again he sets his coffee on the nightstand next to mine, and shifts closer. “I talked to Luis this morning.”

My spine stiffens. “Luis as in Luis Laurent?”

He rakes his fingers through his damp hair. “The one and only.”

“What...what did you talk to him about?”

“I needed his advice.”

“Oh, about your new spring lineup?” I ask, ignoring the flare of disappointment sweeping through me. He asked me for my thoughts last night, and I had some good ideas on the accessories to best showcase the clothing on the app, but I guess he wanted to hear from a true professional.

“No. We talked about the kind of machine you’d need to help with th

e costumes.”

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