LUNA
I slowly blinkedmy eyes open against the sunshine pouring into my bedroom like a freaking spotlight. Usually I closed the shades right before bed for that very reason, but after the... activities the night before. I’d fallen asleep and forgotten.
Rolling over onto my back, I lifted my arms over my head and pointed my toes in a deep stretch, feeling aches in muscles that hadn’t been used in quite some time and an all too pleasurable twinge between my thighs that made me smile. I reached across the mattress to the cause of those aches, but came up empty, feeling nothing but cold sheets beneath my palm, telling me he’d been gone a while.
Sitting up, I looked around for Nate, but the only sign of him was his clothes from the night before scattered around my bedroom floor. Everything but his jeans. Throwing the covers off, I snatched up his tee, bringing it to my nose and sniffing in that all-too familiar scent, then slipped it over my head before padding out of the room on sleep-heavy feet.
I hit the landing and let out a big yawn, noticing for the first time the strong scent of coffee and the sound of waves crashing on the shore.
“Jesus. You come down those stairs sounding like a Clydesdale.”
My head whipped around toward the opened sliding door that led to the back deck. That explained the noise. And Nate standing there dressed in those jeans, the button still undone and his feet bare, shoulder propped on the doorjamb as he sipped coffee from a mug, explained the smell.
“Shut up,” I grumbled, rubbing the remainder of the sleep from my eyes.
His laugh, while very sexy, made me want to punch him in the face. “I see someone isn’t a morning person.” He ignored my little snarl. “And has one hell of a case of bedhead.”
I couldn’t be bothered to reach up and touch my hair to see how bad it was. Honestly, I didn’t give a damn. I padded over to the door instead of heading for the kitchen, taking the mug right out of his hands. “Coffee,” I grunted before taking a nice, long sip.
He stared down at me like I was a lunatic before smiling again and looping an arm around my waist, pulling me into him. “You know there’s a full pot in your kitchen.”
The instant jolt of caffeine worked wonders in making me feel more human. “That would have taken too long to cool. I needed something now.”
“In that case, I’m happy to have been of service. By the way, you look fucking incredible in my shirt.”
I took another sip. “Thanks. I’ll keep it then. What time is it?”
“Just after eight.”
I face planted against his chest, the bare skin warm from the sun. Man, did it feel nice when that arm he had around me squeezed and a chuckle vibrated up from deep in his belly. After our first round the night before, Nate and I had snoozed a bit, but it hadn’t been long before he woke me up on the cusp of orgasm number four. Then he’d proceeded to keep me awake for a few more hours, meaning I’d had one hell of a workout and had only gotten about four hours sleep.
“How are you awake right now? I’m exhausted?” I lamented into his chest.
“Internal clock. Damn thing started up when Evan entered my life and I haven’t been able to shut it off since. Now seven thirty is considered sleeping in.” At my pathetic whimper, he kissed the top of my head and began guiding me toward the kitchen. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ll make you some breakfast.”
I rocked back on a heel as he continued around the island toward the coffee maker. Like he’d been there a million times, he opened a cabinet, pulled down a mug, and filled it for himself.
I lifted my free hand and gave it a wave. “Hold on a minute. You cook?”
“I do. You think I grew up in a house with Georgia Warren and somehow managed to get around cooking lessons?” He scoffed and shook his head. “No way.”
I hopped onto one of the bar stools and settled in to watch. “All right then, Chef Warren. What are you making me?”
Placing his coffee cup on the counter, he moved across the space to the fridge. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got.” He opened the door and studied the confines before doing the same with the pantry.
“Wait. You can just look and build a whole meal around whatever’s on hand?”
“Yep. Pretty much. And with what you have, I can do biscuits and sausage gravy or a bacon and”—he pulled out a block of cheese and read the label—“gruyere omelet.” He ducked his head back into the fridge as my mouth began to water. “Would have been nice if you had some fresh thyme—”
“I do,” I chirped happily, pointing back at the sliding glass door. “In my herb garden. I have fresh thyme, basil, cilantro, and rosemary. And I choose the omelet, because that sounds divine.”
He moved back around the counter toward me, stopping to place a kiss on my forehead. “Then the omelet it is. Be right back.”
Nate headed outside, and while he scoured my gardens for fresh herbs to pick for my homemade breakfast, I laid my head down on the counter, pressing my cheek into the cold quartz as I gave myself a lecture, trying to stop the freak-out brewing inside me.
This wasn’t serious. This was just sex. Sure, we’d backpedaled a bit on the whole one-time deal, but that didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything. We’d get this out of our system eventually, and when that happened, we could go back to how things were before—hopefully without the whole enemies part. Maybe we could even be friends when all was said and done.
“You okay?”