Chapter 27
MELANIE
“You didn’t wake me up.”
I’m jostled awake from a deep sleep. Apparently, orgasms helped you sleep because I was having the best sleep of my life before Nick came upstairs—a very naked Nick.
Well, almost naked. He was only wearing his boxers, and it should be illegal for a man to be this damn perfect.
I tried not to gawk at the bulge in his pants but it was damn near impossible.
“What?” Rubbing my eye, I glanced over at the clock. It was ten minutes after two.
After I left the restaurant, he followed me shortly after in his truck, and I thought I had twenty minutes to spare because he usually doesn’t get home until eleven, but I didn’t.
As soon as he walked through the door, he saw me pouring a drink.
Within three strides he was knocking the glass out of my hand and bending me over, fucking me senseless.
It all happened so fast, I didn’t have time to object.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
And it turns out I’m an alcoholic, but I'm no longer addicted to alcohol.
“Remember, grilled cheese sandwiches.”
I stared at him and I allowed myself one quick peek. Dear God, even soft, the man’s size is impressive.
“Oh, right.” I threw the sheets off me and followed him downstairs. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he would still want to make grilled cheese sandwiches anymore. Not after the line we just crossed. But who would have guessed grilled cheese sandwiches would be our therapy sessions we shared?
When I reached the kitchen, he was already cutting up some sourdough bread.
I never met a man who could make a simple recipe into more.
Every night, he’s been making a new type of grilled cheese sandwich, and I had to admit the man knew his stuff.
I always became hypnotized as I watched him move in the kitchen like some type of ballet dancer.
Every move is effortlessly and gracefully meticulous.
It was mesmerizing, and his perfect chilled abs and toned butt helped keep it interesting.
“I can feel you staring at me.” He says, not looking at me.
Shit.
Embarrassed, I sat down and ignored his comment. I watched as he pulled a ripe tomato out of the refrigerator.
“Uh, what’s that?”
“Just trust me.”
“No, I told you I don't like tomatoes.”
“I knew you liked being bent over and fucked spontaneously so I’m sure you’ll like this. Besides, the tomato is sliced so thin you’ll barely know it is there. And if you can’t stomach it, then you can take it off.”
“Have you always been this cocky or did it come with age?”
“With age comes wisdom, and I didn’t hear you complaining about my cock a couple hours ago, miss one-time thing.”
“I was caught off guard, so the second time doesn’t count.”
“When you cum it counts.”
I roll my eyes. “Men and their egos,” I whispered. “We don’t need to make this a huge deal, it’s just sex.”
He stills for the slightest second. Not expecting that comment, and even though it fetl like more, I have no idea if it did for him.
He quickly places a sandwich on one plate and scoops the other sandwich with his spatula and plates the second one.
Turning around with both plates in his hands, he strides toward me.
I wouldn’t mind eating him over the grilled cheese but I know if I admit that it would make me look weak, vulnerable, and I can’t let him see that side of me.
“We’re not together. This is all fake,” I say, reminding him. And this thing between us, whatever it is, is just sex.”
I won’t let myself fall for him. I can’t.
The earnest expression on his face morphs to fixation.
“I call bullshit.” He says as he takes a bite of his sandwich.
“It’s not, as far as I’m concerned, we’re just two people getting each other off, so no need to complicate things.” I take a bite of my sandwich, appearing nonchalant, but my insides churn, and it takes every bit in me not to throw up right now.
Both his face and hold go slack. “Okay, then how about we include the non-attached sex to the deal? What if I say the offer is on the table until this thing ends?”
“Then I'd say your cock can have me until our time is up and we file for divorce.”
A small grin stretches across his face, like he has just won a Grammy.
We sit silently for a beat, and I watch him place his half-eaten sandwich down. The man could eat, and he wasn’t a slow eater.
“In that case, I’m still hungry.” He pushes his seat back and walks over to me.
“You just ate?”
“I want to eat something else.”
In one quick motion, he pulls my chair out to face him, and I try to hold back my squeal.
He drops to his knees and grabs the band of my waist and panties. I lift my butt up a little for him to pull them down off my body and toss them to the ground.
“I’m going to make every moment count, princess.”
The first swipe of his tongue is a slow tease along the length of my slit, that makes me choke. Groaning, he spreads me with two of his fingers.
“Fuck, that’s good.”
The second is a rash of lavenish hunger that lights every nerve ending of mine on fire.
“Shit.”
He simply laughs between a long lick that drive me out of my damn mind.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper. “Don't you dare stop.”
Tugging my hips forward, he buries his face between my thighs, feasting. My hands reach for his hair and I tug, feeling the power my pussy holds in this moment.
His hungry gaze flickers up to meet mine. “I decide when you get to cum, princess.”
I turn to putty at the sight of him. His hooded eyes, messy hair, and sharp jaw glistening with my wetness nearly enough to make me unravel. Slowly, he slides one of his long fingers inside me. I draw in a sharp breath when he retreats and promptly plunges back in.
“Don’t stop, please.”
Pressing a soft kiss to my pussy he gives me a dark grin.
“I’ve never heard you beg before, princess. I like it.”
I fucking hate him. But his cock, ugh. His magical mouth. I dig my fingers into the back of his neck.
“Please.”
“Keep fucking begging,” he rasps. And the vibration makes me mule. He suckles my clit and I swear I see stars.
“Pretty please.”
I propel into his jaw as an endless surge of pleasure engulfs me. My fingers groping his hair as I hold on for dear life, as I explode.
Nick stands a moment later, and the arctic expression on his face throws me. But he sweeps his thumb over my bottom lip, smearing my lipstick.
“I told you I would know what you liked, including juicy, raw tomatoes.”
With that, he stalks out of the room. But not before I catch a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes. Was he upset that I only wanted him for sex?
I stared at our half-eaten grilled sandwiches. I thought this whole thing would be easy, less complicated, without love being involved, but it seems that I was wrong. Love isn’t the only emotion that can hurt you. So was hate.