Chapter 28 Aurora
Aurora
Strong hands slide around my hips, pulling me back in a wall of solid, suited muscle.
‘I’ll make you breakfast,’ Rafael purrs, dipping his head to kiss the top of my shoulder.
‘I don’t usually eat breakfast,’ I say, pulling what I’m looking for out of my bag on the kitchen counter.
Last night feels like a dream. A hot, sexy one.
After the fast and messy sex in the living room, Rafael led me upstairs and waited for me to clean up in his ridiculously lavish bathroom.
He was lying in bed when I came out, a curve of a sexy smile on his face as he saw me in my vest and potato-print shorts.
Climbing in beside him felt weirdly intimate despite what we’d just done, so I was relieved when he turned out the light and just pulled me back against his chest instead of talking.
Turns out he’s still a cuddler.
And I really like that.
Even if I’m still getting used to everything else that goes along with spending time with him, I know that once we’re in bed, and he wraps me up in his arms like he’s scared I’ll try to sneak away – that everything will feel . . . It’ll feel right.
I bite back a goofy smile.
‘What you got there?’ he asks, stroking my stomach.
I could definitely get used to swoony Rafael.
The one who kisses me the moment I wake up, but doesn’t try to force anything, even though I felt how hard his dick was against my back when we woke up.
The one who walks naked to his bathroom and gives me a spectacular view of his muscular arse before he showers, then leaves me in peace to do the same, like he understands that I need my privacy whilst I’m trying to navigate what being with him in his house – in his bed – really means.
And I could especially get used to the one who’s kissing my neck in a way that’s making me want to go back to bed right this moment and take him with me.
‘Just my pill,’ I reply, popping the small round tablet out of its foil and placing it on my tongue.
Rafael’s kisses cease, but he keeps stroking my stomach.
‘You got the contraceptive pill?’
‘I did.’
‘Why? Do you get heavy periods?’
Once again, his knowledge of female birth control and the related aspects to it surprise me.
‘How do you know enough about its uses to even ask that?’
‘Dove,’ he replies simply. ‘Is that why you’ve got it? You weren’t on it last week. You told me you didn’t take birth control.’
I turn so I can see his face.
‘You’re asking a lot of questions.’
His brows lower and the intensity in his gaze makes me shiver.
‘Answer me, Aurora,’ he says slowly.
‘No, I don’t get heavy periods. I just thought it might be a good idea, that’s all.’
‘A good idea?’ he repeats.
The deep husk in his tone has me fidgeting.
‘Why did you think it was a good idea?’
His eyes bore into mine and I feel like a bug under a microscope.
‘In case I was going to start having more sex,’ I blurt, folding my arms like a shield. ‘Okay?’
‘With me?’
I roll my eyes, but he tilts my chin up with two fingers to meet his gaze.
Rich, molten bronze shimmers back at me.
‘Beauty, did you go on birth control because you were hoping we’d fuck again?’
‘No,’ I scoff.
His eyes narrow in amusement.
‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘Maybe.’
I know my cheeks are flaming. I didn’t plan on this – me and him – ever happening again, and that’s the truth. But yet, I still went to the doctor’s and got a prescription just in case. And I can’t explain why I did it, only that I did.
‘Hm,’ he purrs, and presses a soft kiss to my lips. ‘And you still think you’re not mine?’
‘I’m not,’ I argue.
He kisses me again. ‘I’m not going to lie, the thought of getting you pregnant has a certain . . . appeal. But being on the pill’s a smart choice seeing as I’ll have you coming on my dick every day from now on.’
‘Oh, you will, will you?’ I snort at his arrogance, unsure what to make of the pregnant comment.
He smiles against my mouth, and I can’t help it, I sink into his next kiss like I’m greedy for it.
‘I guarantee it. Now what do you want for breakfast?’
‘I told you, I don’t really eat it,’ I reply as he walks over to the fridge and opens it.
The guy is most definitely walking suit porn. He’s wearing a grey pinstripe one today with a waistcoat – a goddamn waistcoat. He looks like a chestnut-haired David Gandy, hot-suited chef edition.
It’s doing things for my appetite, but not the one for food.
‘Maybe just a juice,’ I say.
‘I’ll make you an omelette. Juice isn’t going to sustain you until lunch. Did you have plans for it?’
‘For what?’ I ask, as he gets a carton of eggs out, then pulls a pan from a drawer.
‘For lunch?’
I shrug. ‘I’ve got three client houses to visit today. I’ll grab something in between.’
‘Whereabouts?’ He cracks the eggs into a bowl and whisks them with a fork.
‘One is in Notting Hill, so I guess I’ll be in that area at lunchtime.’
‘There’s a nice place I know there – you’ll like it.’
‘Oh sure, what’s it called?’ I ask, knowing full well I won’t be visiting any places for lunch that Rafael thinks are ‘nice’. Not if I want to have enough money to eat for the rest of the week.
‘Juniper and Jones. I’ll meet you there.’
‘What?’ I gape at him.
He inclines his head towards the cupboards near me. ‘Can you please pass the salt and pepper?’
I open a random door, a million questions bubbling on my tongue.
Tubes of crisps stare back at me, myriad flavours lined up like soldiers in varying colours. I whip my head back around.
He doesn’t like crisps.
Rafael’s eyes land briefly on the crisps. ‘Salt and pepper’s in that one,’ he says, pointing to the cupboard beside the one I’ve opened before he goes back to whisking like I didn’t just find the Aladdin’s cave of all things salty and delicious.
I fetch it and walk over to him.
‘You really want to meet me for lunch?’
His whisking never breaks pace. ‘Yes.’
‘But aren’t you busy at work?’
‘Swamped.’
I frown. ‘Having lunch doesn’t mean we’re . . . you know . . . anything other than a man and a woman having lunch together,’ I say, more to convince myself.
Rafael grinds some pepper into the bowl.
‘Does it?’ I press, waiting for him to agree with me.
‘Call it whatever you like,’ he replies easily.
I exhale in relief.
‘But we both know what it really is,’ he adds.
‘What?’ I stare at him.
He turns and gives me the full effect of the Rafael Fairfax heated look that’s guaranteed to melt panties.
‘It’s not a date,’ I say. ‘We’re not a couple. I stayed last night, but I’m going back to my place today. This is . . .’ I wave my finger between the two of us. ‘This isn’t going to be a regular thing.’
He merely arches a brow like he knows he has all the power without even needing to speak.
‘It’s not,’ I protest.
He cooks my eggs as I stare at the side of his face. He’s so handsome and in control. It only makes me contemplate arguing with him more to see how far I can push him.
He plates the omelette up, and I hate to admit that it looks and smells incredible.
‘Eat up,’ he says, placing it down on the giant quartz island in the centre of the room.
I slide on to a stool, my mouth watering.
‘This is going to last me until at least dinner,’ I say, eyeing my plate.
Rafael arches a brow.
‘It is,’ I insist.
‘Nice try,’ he replies, kissing my head like it’s the most natural move in the world. ‘I’m still taking you for lunch.’
‘On a non-date,’ I say, picking up my fork.
He chuckles and the rich sound sends warmth radiating through me.
‘Eat your breakfast, Beauty,’ he murmurs. ‘Before I feed it to you myself.’