The Problem With Early Morning Encounters （And Why You Should Always Wear A Bra To Check Your Mail）
Note to self: Two days of radio silence from your hot biker neighbour will apparently melt half your brain cells. Which explains why I walked into the lobby this morning braless, caffeine-deprived, and basically gift-wrapped for disaster in a clingy tank top.
Me
Still no word from him.
Megan
Nothing since the other night?
Me
Radio silence.
Me
And I definitely didn’t hear his bike come home last night.
Megan
Maybe it’s club stuff?
Me
Or maybe he’s with the blonde who can’t keep her hands to herself.
Megan
You don’t know that.
Me
I know nothing apparently.
But let me back up.
I was attempting to adult this morning, waiting in the lobby at 6:45 a.m. for my new mechanical keyboard delivery (because coding half the night is easier when your keyboard makes satisfying clicky sounds).
In my defence, I truly thought I’d be the only person awake at that ungodly hour.
That’s why I didn’t bother with a bra under my favourite sleep tank, the soft grey one that’s almost a size too small for me.
The universe, naturally, had other plans.
I’d just signed for my package when I heard bikes pulling up outside. My heart tripped over itself in the way it does when Jake’s nearby, and while I was still deciding whether to sprint back upstairs or not, the door opened.
Jake walked in first, followed by three other club members. He stopped dead when he saw me, his gaze dragging down my body with desire, lingering in places that made heat rush low.
“Morning, darlin’,” he said, his voice husky in a way that definitely wasn’t just early morning rasp.
I clutched my package closer, painfully aware of how much this tank top left to the imagination (spoiler alert: nothing). “Hi.”
I noticed the way his jaw tightened when his friends’ gazes landed on me, his whole demeanour shifting to something lethal when one of them let out a low whistle.
“Boys,” Jake’s voice carried an edge that made the temperature in the lobby drop several degrees, “give us a minute.”
They filed out without a word, but not before I caught their knowing grins.
The moment the door closed behind them, Jake closed the distance between us. “Two days without seeing you,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down my arm, “and you’re trying to kill me, wearing this.”
“I didn’t exactly plan this,” I defended weakly. “I was just getting my package.”
“Wearing this?” His thumb hooked under the strap of my tank top.
“I didn’t think anyone would be here!”
“Lucky me.” His stare slid to my lips, heavy with want. “Been thinking about you for two days straight, and now I find you like this.”
Then he kissed me, and oh god, two days was definitely too long. His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that left me boneless while he gripped my hip and backed me against the wall. My package hit the floor with a thud as I surrendered to his kiss,grasping his jacket to steady myself.
When he broke the kiss, I asked, “Where have you been?”
A shadow passed through his gaze. Regret maybe? “Club business. It couldn’t be helped.” He traced his finger along my collarbone. “But I’ll make it up to you tonight if you’re free.”
“Oh?”
“Come over. I’ll cook for you.”
“You cook?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.” His sexy smile made my insides turn to liquid. “Say yes. I made sure we wouldn’t be interrupted tonight if you were free.”
The implication that he’d been thinking about me and planning this made my ribcage feel suddenly too small for what my heart was doing inside it.
I thought about the blonde woman, about the questions still swirling in my mind. But the way he was looking at me, like I was all he was thinking about...
“Yes.”
He kissed me again, softer this time but no less devastating, then asked, “Is seven-thirty good for you?”
“Yes. I’ll bring dessert.”
“No need. I’ve got it covered.” He paused, his eyes darkening as they swept over me once more. “I’ll see you then.”
He let me go, but as I walked away, he called out, “And Eden?”
I stopped and turned back to him. “Yeah?”
“Much as I love seeing you like this...I don’t like other guys staring. Wear whatever you want but just know that I don’t share well.”
That statement should have been a neon hazard pop-up window: do not click, girl . My heart ignored it completely. It smashed “accept all cookies” on his possessiveness, and speedran straight into screaming YES, UNLOCK NEXT LEVEL.
Current status : Trying to decide what to wear while simultaneously trying not to read too much into the fact that he’s been planning this dinner. Also contemplating whether it’s too early to text Megan for a fashion crisis intervention.
Me
FASHION EMERGENCY
Me
HE’S COOKING ME DINNER
Me
AT HIS PLACE
Me
TONIGHT
Megan
On a scale of 1-10 how much are you freaking out?
Me
√-1 (IT’S IMAGINARY BECAUSE I CAN’T EVEN QUANTIFY THIS)
Megan
Did you ask about the blonde?
Me
No.
Me
I got distracted.
Me
BY HIS MOUTH
Megan
Of course you did.
P.S. To whoever decided that morning deliveries should happen before 7 a.m.: I both hate you and want to send you a thank you card.
P.P.S. Is it weird that him getting territorial over his friends checking me out was kind of hot? Just going to file that revelation away with all my other questionable life choices.
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