Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Donovan
I shove a hand through my hair as I watch her sleep.
I needed to fuck her three separate times before the fire inside of me turned to embers. It was short-lived because before she finally fell asleep in my arms after I ate her pussy to one last orgasm. I was tempted to demand she wrap her lips around my dick, but I wore her out.
She was satiated as she snuggled her head into the pillow and her eyes drifted closed.
She belongs here with me.
I’ve felt it since we were together on the cruise, but now that she’s in my home it’s obvious. Whatever this is, it reaches far beyond fucking for me.
I’m starting to fall in love with her, or maybe I’m just falling faster now. I labeled my fascination with her social media postings as nothing but a harmless infatuation, but I think it was the foundation for what I’ve been experiencing ever since I saw her on the cruise.
“Is it morning?” she asks with her eyes still closed.
“Soon,” I tell her from where I’m standing at the foot of the bed. “It’s just after five.”
“Yuck.”
I laugh. “Are you not a morning person, Delia?”
That lures her eyes open. She looks me over, her gaze stopping at the black running shorts and T-shirt I’m wearing. “You’re sweaty. Did you go for a run or something?”
I did just that to try and burn off the unending desire I feel for her. It didn’t accomplish anything but produce sweat and a burning sensation in my calves.
“I ran five miles.”
“Why?” She laughs. “I mean I know why. It’s obvious you work out all the time, but why so early in the morning?”
I glance at the window. Shades are covering it now and the view is nothing to speak of, but the city I love is beyond it, waiting to be discovered. I’ve lived here my entire life and still don’t know all of its hidden secrets.
“It’s quiet out there.”
She rolls to her side. The sheet covering her falls slightly, exposing her bare back. “It’s quiet in here, too.”
I suppose it is. Within hours the symphony that is the sounds of New York City will filter in through the open windows. Car horns, people screaming their frustrations at one another, and emergency sirens will remind everyone on this island why they love or hate this place.
“Is it quiet in the mornings where you live?” I ask because I’ve been curious about what neighborhood she calls home.
“Kind of,” she answers in a vague way.
I move to sit on the edge of the bed. I’m not close enough to touch her, but I am close enough to smell the fragrance of her perfume and her skin. “Kind of? Do you live in the heart of Times Square?”
That earns me a soft laugh. “Can you imagine? I love that part of the city but I couldn’t do it.”
“You couldn’t live there?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I lived in Tribeca for a while with two roommates when I was working toward my first degree.”
I want to know about every single degree this woman has earned, but I’m not going to venture off the course I’m on now. “Where did you move after that?”
“Back home with my mom for just a little while.”
I nod. “How was that?”
“Great.” She sighs. “I needed the hugs and the humor. My mom is funny as hell.”
I’ve never met her, but I hope that happens one day. I know from the small amount of details that Matt has shared, that their father took off when they were all kids.
“Where did you land after you left your mom’s place?” I push.
“Park Avenue,” she says as she gazes wanders to the wall. “I’m still there.”
Rent isn’t cheap on that stretch of real estate. I know she’s been studying her heart out for most of her adult life. Matt has mentioned in passing that she’s a hell of a tutor and is paid top dollar for helping the children of some of this city’s rich and famous make their grades.
“My place is lovely.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s spacious and my neighbors are like family to me.”
“Do you live alone?”
That brings her gaze back to mine. “I do. I inherited my home from a friend. I wasn’t sure what to do with it at first, but I moved in to try and figure that out, and I’m still there.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Delia,” I say with genuine meaning behind it. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Thank you.” She smiles softly. “It was a long time ago. There are still moments when it’s hard, but it’s been years now.”
Grief doesn’t abide by a prescribed schedule. Unfortunately, I’m witness to that every day within my practice.
“What time do you leave for work?” she asks, effortlessly changing the subject.
“In a couple of hours,” I answer truthfully. “I like to get in early to get set up for what awaits me each day.”
“So we have time for coffee?”
I run my hand up her calf beneath the sheet that is still covering her. “Or whatever else you’d like to do.”
“I’d like to make your morning one you’ll never forget.” She taps her bottom lip. “Courtesy of my mouth.”
I’m on my feet in a split second. “I’ll shower first.”
She slides the sheet off completely to reveal her nude body. “I’ll shower with you. That way I can do what I want at the same time.”
She’s offering to blow me in the shower.
How the hell can I pass on that?