Chapter Seven
Sage
The sun filters through the small gap in the curtains of my bedroom, a clear indication of a new day, so I promptly bury my head beneath my comforter because I’m not ready. There’s an ache in my chest and my stomach is churning after that strange-as-fuck interaction yesterday afternoon.
That man just won’t get out of my head.
He’s lucky we didn’t call the cops on his ass.
The way he grabbed me felt like a possession, in multiple ways. It was as though my will was his with how I rose to my tiptoes as he tilted my head up. The control I had over my body fled for those few seconds his lips connected with mine and my mind was consumed by him.
That was until I regained my senses and slapped the asshole.
I think my brief mental lapse was because he looks so much like the man in my dreams, the one I like to conjure up when I’m trying to bring that orgasm train to the station.
My head was level with his solid chest, his thick biceps, and his square-cut jaw peppered with stubble wasn’t distracting at all.
I absolutely did not notice his bright green eyes and his piercing stare.
Ugh. This intense hatred I have for him feels unwarranted because I have no idea who he is. He’s a complete stranger. You’d think being kissed by a hot-as-fuck beast of a man would set my vagina on fire, but instead, it only ignited my anger.
Plus, he seemed to have me mixed up with someone else. I can’t decide whether this Aiyana is unlucky or blessed as fuck.
“Sage! He’s coming now!”
Ha. “That’s what she said!” Even at almost thirty years old, I still find that funny in the most inappropriate moments.
I’m suddenly exposed to the real world as Danika rips off my comforter and flops herself beside me.
“Funny fucker.” She turns her head so we’re now face to face on my bed.
“But you can’t make jokes about my brother’s…
ugh, no. I can’t even say it.” A faux shiver ripples through her body.
“Anyway, D’s on the way, right now, like, five minutes away.
So get your ass out of bed and put some clothes on because I’d rather not introduce you as my naked bestie. ”
“I’m not naked…” I sit up and look down the length of my body at my purple tank top and white panties. “Okay, I’ll put some clothes on.” We both chuckle and Danika sits up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed.
“Thanks, babe. Your ass is fine as hell but my brother would spend his whole visit trying to bite it.” Gnashing her teeth together before laughing again, she gets up and moves to my open doorway.
“Thanks again for agreeing to make dinner tonight. I appreciate you.” She blows me a kiss and leaves, closing the door behind her.
My head falls backward onto my pillows and I spread my limbs across the bed.
The three dreamcatchers above me sway softly, the hanging feathers caught on the small draft caused by the door closing.
They’re soothing, but I can’t get distracted.
I need to get dressed. But first…the bathroom is calling my name.
Rushing out of my bedroom, I pop Witch Coffee bags into three clear glass mugs and fill them from our boiling water tap—compliments of George who installed it a couple of years ago, after spending weeks trying to figure out how.
By the time Danika’s brother arrives, they’ll have been steeping for long enough to make a decent strong coffee.
Next stop, bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I relax for a moment and take a breath before emptying my bladder.
This is a big day for my best friend. It’s a Sunday, so the shop is closed, and all we have to concentrate on is this visit.
My main task is making tonight’s dinner while Danika entertains her brother.
They plan to be out this afternoon exploring the area or something.
I don’t really know what they’re planning.
I just know they’ll be gone all afternoon while I cook.
Danika went out and bought all the ingredients after her shift yesterday, so all I have to do is make it. Once I’m dressed, of course. And after a coffee or three…and maybe a few chapters of the Plated Prisoner series. I’m about halfway through and I’m addicted to reading about the golden girl.
Muffled voices pull me from my thoughts.
Fuck.
To get to my bedroom, I have to enter the living room and, to be fair, I don’t have to go far because the doors are almost side by side, but far e-fucking-nough for our guest to notice me trying to slink away. If I were wearing my charms, I’d feel lucky enough to slip by unseen, but I’m not.
After finishing on the toilet and brushing my teeth, I decide I’ve spent long enough in here. It could start to get weird if I stay any longer.
Taking a deep breath, I steel my spine, ready to own the fact I’m braless in my tank top and panties. My hair is in a bird’s nest on top of my head because, of course, I haven’t brushed it yet and my comb is in the bedroom, but whatever. Danika’s brother isn’t here to visit me.
I open the door, closing my eyes on an exhale, and take a step out of the bathroom…into a fucking wall.
“Ow!” My ass hits the tiled bathroom floor and my head barely misses the corner of our shower because the wall I bounced off is now behind me, protecting me from knocking myself the fuck out.
“Well, hello, p’tite biche.” His mouth, full of pearly whites, grins down at me from above, but all I can concentrate on is what he just called me.
“That’s kinda rude, don’t you think? Danika can call me bitch because she’s my bestie, but you haven’t earned those privileges, Mister.” Scrambling to my feet, I’m now standing over him, my crotch at his eye-level, but I’m ignoring that as I push my fists onto my hips, waiting for an apology.
His super dark eyes crinkle at the corners and his grin widens before he laughs in the classiest way I’ve ever seen.
Like a refined older gentleman, only he’s not old.
Not even a little. I’m unsure of their age gap, but he looks to be in his early thirties, barely older than Danika, and his hair is the same shade of crimson.
If it wasn’t such a bold and vibrant red, I’d believe it was a family thing, but that color only ever comes from regular dyeing.
“It means little fawn, babe. Where I grew up here in the U.S., D spent a lot of time in France.” Danika pokes her head into the bathroom and rolls her eyes when she sees me standing over her brother.
“Well, okay then.” I turn to look back down at Desdemon, who is now standing and a hell of a lot taller than I expected.
He’s almost as tall as that random weirdo from yesterday, but he’s nowhere near as built.
Desdemon has more of an athletic figure, but after bumping into him, I know it’s all muscle because nothing else is that solid.
“Nice to meet you, Desdemon. I’m Sage.” I thrust my palm out for him to shake.
He takes my hand and instead of shaking it, like any normal human being, he lifts it to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. Then he winks, his lips lingering for longer than necessary.
“The pleasure is all mine, Petite Sorcière.” Oh so slowly, he lowers my hand and bows his head a little before exiting the bathroom to a giggling Danika.
That’s when I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
Fun.
The siblings are gone by the time I’m dressed and ready for the day. It’s two in the afternoon, but with a late shift, the extra sleep was needed because it always takes me a few hours after work to unwind before bed.
Wearing a pair of stonewashed jeans and a light purple sweater, I make sure my charms are all in place before sliding my feet into my soft, fluffy slippers.
We don’t own a dining table so dinner at the breakfast bar this evening will have to do, but I need the space for cooking so I can’t really make it look pretty yet.
“Alexa! Play power ballads.” Music starts blaring through the apartment and my embarrassment from earlier is quickly forgotten in place of singing Aerosmith at the top of my lungs.
It’s not the typical music for someone turning thirty in a few months, but Trina was always blaring it in the shop before Danika and I took over and now it’s buried in my brain. So when I’m looking for a good sing-along, well, there’s no other option.
The cucumber and avocado salad is now in the refrigerator with the expensive bottle of wine we splurged on while I prepare the strawberry spoon cakes in their individual bowls. They’ll need time to cool down before we can eat them.
Guns N’ Roses blasts through the speaker as I remove the desserts from the oven and swap them for the glass dish of lasagna. I’ve managed to procrastinate long enough that Danika and her brother will be home just in time to have some starters before this is ready.
Finally, I can set the table—breakfast bar—ready for dinner. Not much needs to be done, but I do place a set of cutlery in front of three of the stools, along with napkins that I have expertly folded into fans, and I finish off the placings with empty wine glasses.
Fuck it, I may as well start the dinner party early…
Meatloaf begins blaring through the speaker just as I’m finishing off my second glass of wine. One of my favorites to sing along to. Although, I always chuckle at the line about it not coming hard on some days, because I don’t fucking come at all, let alone hard.
“I would do anything to come, I’d use a prop as big as a bat. I would do anything to orgasm, and there’ll never be no turning back…”
“And there’ll never be no turning back.” The deep male voice sings along with me and I immediately stop, turning on the spot with my stomach trying to escape through my throat.