"Lie to me," he whispered. His face was so close and I couldn't breathe.
"Lie to me and tell me you don't want me as much as I want you. Lie to me and tell me you don't want to press those pretty lips of yours to mine right now. Lie to me and tell m...
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When I woke up, daylight was already pouring through the windows and the bed next to me was cold. Memories of last night flooded my mind and I tried to ignore them as I hugged the warm covers to my naked chest.
Naked. Chest.
What the hell was wrong with me?
While my house was burning down, I was having sex with my enemy. My coworker. My "friend".
God, if there were a definition of "situationship", Rowen and I would be on the top of the list. I rolled off the bed and grabbed Rowen's shirt, sliding it over my head. I slid on my underwear and then grabbed my phone.
Missed calls from my lawyer greeted me. I was sure I had to do some paperwork and visit my house. Insurance would have to talk with me too, but I was too tired to deal with it at the moment.
I walked downstairs and the aroma of a warm breakfast flooded my senses. I padded my way into the kitchen and was met with a wonderful view.
Rowen stood at the stove in nothing but grey sweatpants. He flipped something on the stove. As soon as I entered, he turned and smiled at me. "Good morning, sleepy head."
"I didn't know you were a chef, too." I took a seat at the kitchen island. "How many secret gigs do you lead outside of acting, Rowen?"
"You'd be surprised," he joked. I grinned slightly as I watched him. The muscles of his back flexed with every movement he made.
"What are you making?" I asked, trying to begin a conversation.
"An omelet with bacon and toast."
"What if I was vegetarian?" I teased.
"You're not."
"And how do you know that?"
He just smiled as he flipped the omelet into the plate. "I remember everything about you."
I was quiet as I grabbed the fork and started cutting the delicious meal.
I remember everything about you.
"How was your sleep?" he asked me, glancing at me from. the corner of his eye.
"Less than I normally get, but quite good. And you?" I smirked right back at him, then let my eyes wander downwards and onto the chiseled muscles of his stomach.
"Quite good," he echoed mockingly. He slid toast onto my plate and then joined me with a plate of his own. "I hope you're enjoying your accommodations."
"Your house is nice," I admit. But at his smile, I had to add something more. "Almost as nice as mine."
