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She nodded back. “I am. My morning coffee ritual hasn’t changed.”
Was she saying everything else he knew about her had?
He stalked toward her, stopping to reach out and clasp her jaw, then leaning down for a chaste kiss. Anything just to be close and touching her again. “Black, two sugars,” he said near her ear.
Her lashes fluttered, and she breathed, “Yes.”
It was only once his barista machine did its thing and heavily scented the air as it filtered out a rich coffee brew that he placed her mug down on the kitchen counter where she sat on a rattan, high-backed stool.
“Thank you,” she said, before she took an appreciative sip.
He leaned against his stainless steel fridge, his feet crossed, as he sipped his own brew with its milky froth on top. “You’re welcome.” He watched her drink, thinking how time hadn’t marred her in any way. If anything she was lovelier, her maturity softening her angles and planes. “Why don’t you stay for the day?” he offered. “The night, too.”
She blinked. “Is that what you want?”
More than anything.
“Yes. I believe we have much to talk about.”
She cocked a brow. “Talking is what you want to do?”
“Amongst other things,” he said huskily.
She tugged the sheet a little tighter around her, a reflexive action that spoke volumes. She didn’t trust him, not yet. Not that he blamed her. He hadn’t exactly given her a lot to work with. Not unless one counted amazing sex years after an unpleasant breakup.
She put her cup down. “I’ve come this far, why not stay another day,” she allowed.
His breath whooshed out. Mother fucker. So much had hinged on her capitulation. He had today and possibly tonight with her. He’d need to make it memorable. Make her want even more time with him.
She reached for her cellphone. “I’ll text Bernard for the things I need.”
Aiden managed a smile, though it was tighter than the pressure banding around his chest. Bernard mightn’t have taken Luna’s virginity, but he seemed to know his way around her wardrobe. Was he the type to sniff the crotch of her underwear?
Not everyone is perverted like you, buddy.
He closed his eyes for a moment, growing hard just thinking about doing exactly that with her miniscule scraps of lace.
He gulped the last of his coffee. “Of course. I’ll, ah, arrange for breakfast to be sent here.”
She looked up, but there was a set now to her face, a reservation he didn’t like one bit. At least in bed she’d been open and honest. She had her game face on now, like she wasn’t prepared to trust him fully.
He withheld a heavy sigh. What did he expect? He’d done the dirty on her all those years ago. She wasn’t a pushover. He’d have to work for her trust once again, and something told him that would be a whole lot harder to achieve than what it’d been giving her orgasms.
