29. Chapter 29
Ames
Waking up on my side is a normal occurrence. Opening my eyes to find a glorious, golden brown body next to mine isn't.
The onslaught of memories it brings is a welcome adrenaline shot.
His perfectly round ass, a revelation among buttery sheets, makes me wish I woke up like this every morning.
With a view of his thick thighs. The gentle hills of his back muscles.
His face is half hidden in his pillow, and the sweet curl on his lips is something I'd like to see first thing every day, too.
I'm high from the aftermath of the night before.
I had never had sex that was so unscripted, so liberating, so generous before. My abs are sore from my orgasms. A smile rests on my lips, too, and I have to wonder if it was there while I slept.
Man, Saint loves to please a woman. It didn't feel like a performance. He loved pleasing me. I felt adored . And from the way we're holding hands, it was special to him, too.
In the sunlight that filters through the thick curtains, a deep inner warmth blooms .
He deserves to brag… and a good meal to nourish us, recover, and prepare for more.
I carefully get out of bed so as not to wake him up. The tank top I use as a pajama shirt lays on the floor, forgotten after falling off my bed the night before. Wearing nothing but that and my underwear, I grab my phone and tip toe out of the room. My last sight as I close the door is Saint's ass.
With a grin on my face, I collect ingredients and prep everything on the kitchen island.
It's late in the morning and brunch is his favorite meal, so I put some effort into it.
A mushroom omelette, some julienne-cut veggies, cheese, fruit…
if I make some arepas as well, it might prompt those dimples to show up first thing in my day as well.
Damn, I still feel like I'm glowing. Cutting through a red pepper and smiling like I am one with nature. Cleaning the insides lovingly like I will gently wash the seeds to plant in my beloved garden.
Last night, Saint said he'd been thinking about it for a long time.
The way he treated me, I believe him. He must have been so used to getting whoever he wanted that waiting for this chance with me had him pent up.
Making him lose it and come in his boxers?
It will surely make it to the highlight reel of my life when I die.
However long this lasts, I will remember this night above all.
Even if it all leads to Saint teaching me how to end things earlier than I ever have.
The last thought falls on me like a cold mist. It dampens my shine.
But I can't forget we're doing this for a short while.
This is not the happily ever after I seek.
Saint doesn't see romance through the same lens I do.
He's already always himself, and that includes having no interest in permanent attachments. I can't forget it.
Red strips fill a bowl. I take one and munch on it mindlessly. With my free hand, I put a few strawberries to soak in water and a bit of white vinegar.
It's good that this thing with Saint won't last. This way, I won't be tempted to lose myself in him, and I won't lose him.
Being with Saint for a short while will teach me all the lessons I've been missing out on.
With his kindness, with those revelations he called rules…
In just one night, a new philosophy is taking shape .
Boredom isn't the price of comfort. Monotony isn't the price of security. And predictable sex isn't the price of being with someone forever.
I sigh and leave the strawberries to their bath. I pick up my phone. Last night, I wrote something quick to Evie to let everyone know I was leaving and not to worry. I didn't explain much, and I fully expect to have a small interrogation waiting for me in my texting app.
Evie didn't disappoint. She sent several messages asking to know who I left with and wanting to hear all of the details, asking me to text her in the morning with proof of life. I smile. Her concern is sweet and brings happy bubbles to my stomach.
Her last text, sent an hour earlier, doesn't.
Evie : Hey! I haven't heard from you yet, so I'm keeping an eye out for your message, but I'm sending this new one anyway because if I were you, I'd want to know.
News about Aidan came up during my general media check this morning.
He's been out and about with a few different dates.
People online are commenting on it because it's new, and it may be promo for his album, but his fans are speculating because they know about the breakup.
Let me know if you want to talk about it 3
Without much thought, I look up his name. I ignore the bio at the top of the results, and find several pictures of him with three different gorgeous femmes. They all have long, straight hair. They're all thin and elegantly dressed, too. Their make up game is on point.
The disgust in my stomach doesn't make me proud.
It's not about his dates. As far as I know, they did nothing wrong.
But the fact Aidan is out there showing off his new single status— now that he finally accepted it— it feels childish, somehow.
Like he lost his favorite toy and now shows up to the playground with three new ones.
Ufff. I'm not proud of those feelings, but they're real. I can only hope he's not toying with those three dates the way he toyed with me .
I go back to Evie's text a few times, unsure of what to tell her. I keep flipping back between my browser and my texting app, biting the inside of my lips the whole time. That's why I see my brother's text right away.
Pablo : any news about the TV show? Maybe I should visit again, or maybe you can come see me
Right. I should also spare a thought to my brother, and what last night with Saint does to the relationship among us three.
I didn't want to confront that so soon, but here we are. Still, I find a way to delay things another few seconds. I send a quick note to Evie to tell her I'm okay and I'll write more later, then turn to the conversation with Pablo.
Ames : Hey! No big news since we last talked. My friend Evie is helping me negotiate a contract while I sign with an agent. I have two calls on Monday, and by next week I may have everything sorted
Pablo : sounds like I should fly again for another visit. Time for another celebration?
I bite my lip. If Pablo visits, Saint and I will have to either pretend nothing is going on, or explain nothing is really going on.
My brother may not be entitled to know I hooked up with his friend, but I'm not bold enough to tell him I asked Saint to teach me to have flings anyway.
Besides, once upon a time, Pablo told me to think hard about ever getting involved with Saint.
Even back then, Pablo knew I wanted forever and Saint doesn't do that.
I take a deep breath and rub my lips together. Stalling is the only thing I can think of for the time being.
Ames : I would love to see you! Things are so chaotic right now with the playoffs and the contract negotiation and pilot filming plans… Let us know in advance, okay? No surprises this time. Let's plan something!
Pablo : No surprises. I'll let you know!
My phone clanks as it hits the stone of the island, but I ignore it.
The masa for the arepas should be ready now.
I wash my hands and start shaping the simple bread.
Should we tell Pablo anything? I don't know if he would understand that Saint and I have the perfect set up— for a little bit.
As long as I can prevent feelings from showing up. My brother knows me too well.
"Morning." Saint smiles at me, dimples full force. "Give me a sec."
I startle, but the view fixes everything.
Still naked, ass still glorious, he goes into his bedroom.
Soon he comes out again, wearing only his jewelry and a new pair of bold underwear.
This time, it's a neon pink, tight strip of fabric, with a navy waistband.
His hair is messy, he looks happy and sleepy, and it softens all the worries swirling inside my mind.
I leave the arepa on the tray and grab more mix in my hands.
I lean on the kitchen island. "Morning."
He kisses me with complete disregard for the fact my hands are full of white cornmeal mix. I melt, my hands listless in the air next to us.
"You weren't in bed when I woke up," he says. "I didn't expect heartbreak first thing in the day."
I laugh.
"You think I'm joking?" He kisses me more.
Sweet, exploring kisses that turn me to goo.
"I promised you breakfast," I manage.
I did. What feels like ages ago, when I thought he was going to turn me down gently after I propositioned him. Ha .
His lips trail down my neck, the sensitive skin under the shell of my ear. "I promised I'd show you what my body can do."
I shiver.
I could get used to this. All of this.
And that scary thought is enough to show me just how careful I have to be.
"And you're going to do that while fasting?" I ask.
It's as much as I can do to temper the situation. My best attempt at teasing him.
"Would that impress you?" Saint runs his hands down my naked thighs.
He's locked-in on feeling me up. My offer of food may not be as foolproof as I hoped.
I take a slow breath, this time to calm myself. "Not if the arepas on the grill get burnt."
It doesn't work either. My skin remembers last night, and wants flames igniting my nerve endings again, and a new series of multiple orgasms.
So greedy already. But I'm not the only one, it seems.
"I'll turn it off—" he turns to the stove, only to find nothing there yet.
"Pablo texted," I blurt.
That cools him down. He stares at me for a moment, to finally nod.
"Right." He washes his hands at the sink. "Everything okay?"
Without drying his hands, he takes over shaping the arepas. I wash my hands, set a cast iron pan to warm up, and work on the rest.