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Chapter Four
Camilla
Sunsets are a cultural phenomenon. Painting, photographs, and metaphors abound surrounding the lowering of the sun on the horizon, casting pink across the sky on a good day. However, sunrises, in my humble opinion, didn’t get nearly enough respect. It could partly be because most people aren’t awake to see them. Or, if they are, it tends to be under less than pleasant circumstances.
I had always been an early riser. I’m not sure why. My internal clock must have been set differently. No matter what else happened, I always woke up to see the sunrise, happy and refreshed. I was one of those mythical “morning people” one hears so much about. As such, I could run almost any model of coffeemaker with my eyes closed.
The machine set, I started on a full breakfast fry up with a fresh fruit accompaniment. Most of it was done before the coffeemaker clicked itself off, leaving a pot of lovely, black happiness. Setting out plates and silverware on a tray like an old-world Duchess, I served up two plates of breakfast and two mugs of Colombian. Everything set just so, I hoisted up the serving tray and headed down the hall.
Knocking loudly on his front door, I waited for Aden to rouse from his slumber. Ten minutes later, he appeared. Even groggy with his green eyes bloodshot and a wicked case of bed head, he still looked dashing. An impression only amplified by the fact that he was only wearing a pair of cargo shorts. It showed off his toned soldier bod, which hadn’t softened a bit since he retired.
“Good morning!” I sang, holding the tray up before me.
“The fuck do you want?” he growled, playing all mean again, repressing his true emotions.
He was so cute when he was in denial.
“I brought you breakfast,” I said, ducking under Aden’s arm into the apartment.
“You don’t say,” he said, backing away from me and rubbing his big hand over his face.
My eyes fixated on the bright tattoo on his shoulder, the one he got in the army representing his unit. There was another across his hard, defined left pec, a twisting Celtic knot that he had done right after high school. My eyes wanted to drift lower, but first, I had to continue on with my plan.
“Indeed!” I said brightly, putting the tray down on the dining room table, after pushing papers to the side.
“I don’t have to go to work for a couple of hours,” Aden grumbled, heading back towards the bedroom. “Leave.”
“I’ll join you,” I said.
Quick as you please, he turned on a dime and detoured back to the dining room, mumbling something I never quite got. Slumping into a chair, he crossed his big arms over his chest and looked at me with heavy lids. I put his plate before him, telling that the smell was already bringing around his grumpy mood.
“You really don’t need to do this,” he said, cutting into the French toast.
The first bite seemed to change his mind as he then gobbled down the rest in two minutes flat.
“Like it?” I asked, unable to repress a giggle.
“It’s pretty good,” Aden admitted.
I looked down at my plate and carefully cut my toast. “I’m happy to do it again. Every day if you like. Maybe we could do dinner, too. It only makes sense to share. We are only an apartment away after all and such good friends.”
“Drop it.”
I looked up to see his bright green eyes glaring into me. Every line of Aden’s body was ridged.
“Drop what?” I asked, slowly putting a bite of French toast into my mouth. A little dab of syrup dripped down my chin. I didn’t bother to use my napkin, licking it up by extending my tongue.
“The bullshit. I know what you really want.” Aden pushed back his chair. He was trying to act mad, but his gaze was on my lips.
“I’ve never made a secret of what I want,” I pointed out.
I ate my bowl of strawberries in as sexy a way as I could manage. When they were gone, I reached for a banana, practically giving it head as I ate it, sucking and licking shamelessly to show Aden what I could do.
Aden groaned and rolled his eyes. Not quite the reaction I was going for.
“I have to take a shower,” he said, heading down the hall toward the bathroom.
“Great!” I said, jumping up.
