Forbidden Fantasies

Chapter Three

A wave of mild disappointment washed over me when I woke up and noticed the emptiness beside me. The sheets were cool against my skin, starkly contrasting with the warmth of another body that had filled the space just hours before. I stretched my arms wide; each movement intended to shake off the lingering fatigue from the exciting, rigorous activities of the night prior. A gentle throb pulsed at my temples, an unwelcome souvenir from the vodka-filled revelry, but aside from that simmering discomfort, I felt more invigorated—more alive—than I had in a long time.

The peaceful silence of the morning was suddenly pierced by a sound coming from the kitchen, which sent my heart racing. Had he not left after all? My imagination ignited at the thought of enjoying that enigmatic man for breakfast—the perfect way to begin my day.

I slid out of bed, the luxurious fabric of my dark purple silk robe flowing over my body like water as I moved purposefully toward the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted in the air. As I entered the kitchen, I spotted Savannah. Her slim frame was a whirlwind of energy as she rummaged through my cupboards, her eyes wide with determination. Her wavy hair cascaded around her face like a halo, and she wore a surprisingly casual outfit—an oversized tee and leggings.

"Good morning," I said, sitting at the bar, crossing my legs comfortably as I leaned back. Savannah jumped slightly at my voice, her movements stuttering as she almost bumped her head against the shelf above her.

"Jesus, Abi. Why do you gotta sneak up on me like that?" she exclaimed, turning to face me with mock indignation, her hands still clutching a mug.

"Says the one who broke into my house."

"I didn't break in. I have a key. Remember?" she retorted, feigning innocence, a sly smile creeping across her lips.

"You mean the key I gave you for emergencies?"

"This is an emergency! I'm extremely hungover and completely out of coffee." I rolled my eyes, watching her with amusement as she poured us both steaming cups, the dark liquid swirling enticingly. She handed me my coffee, prepared perfectly to my liking.

As she slid my mug across the counter, I caught her appraising glance. Her eyes roamed over me, taking in the remnants of last night's adventures—the slightly disheveled state of my hair and the smudge of yesterday's mascara beneath my eyes.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow through the steam that danced above my mug.

"You brought a guy home. Is he still here?" Her gaze flicked toward my bedroom door, her interest piqued.

"No. Unfortunately." I sighed, shifting on the barstool, feeling everywhere that Noah had been.

"So, tell me everything," she urged, a hungry gleam in her eyes.

"There's not much to tell. I had a one-night stand. That's it." I tried to downplay my encounter with Noah, giving as few details as possible, but I should've known that Savannah wouldn't let that happen.

"Was he hot?" she pressed, leaning closer, her excitement infectious.

"Unbelievably hot. And very well put together," I admitted, a smile creeping onto my face.

"Was the sex good?"

"Extremely," I confirmed, a shade of embarrassment heating my cheeks.

"Girl, you've got to give me more than that!" Her voice rose with each word, practically tinged with desperation as if it were life or death. I felt my resolve waver and surrender to her pleading eyes. I began to spill the details of the night—every exhilarating moment, every electric connection. Her animated reactions only encouraged me to go deeper, and soon, I found myself lost in the rush of recalling it all.