Delaney James seemed to have it all-a Manhattan townhouse, a thriving career as a fashion journalist, and a handsome, high-powered husband, but when he announces he's leaving her, Delaney's picture-perfect life unravels. Heartbroken and in need of a...
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I wake up the next morning in Greyson's arms. My fingers are intertwined with his and our joined hands are tucked under my chin. Our legs are tangled together while his chest is pressed against my back, our skin practically melded together after laying in the same position for hours once we finally fell asleep. I feel his breath on the back of my neck, and I flinch as it blows the ends of my hair across my cheek, tickling my skin. The slow hum of his light snoring is steady enough to almost make me fall back to sleep.
Careful not to wake him, I let go of his hand and slowly slip out from underneath his arm. He stirs a bit and reaches across the space next to him but doesn't wake up. Greyson has always been a deep sleeper. His mother used to say he could sleep through a category five hurricane and wake up the next day having no idea anything had happened.
I grab his t-shirt and pull it over my head, but since he tore my panties to shreds, I'm going to have to be creative in finding something to wear under the shirt. Any pair of his shorts or sweatpants will be too long on me, and too big around the waist, and as much as I wish I was one of those uninhibited girls who can walk around comfortably while completely bare below the waist, I'm not. So, I'm forced to root through Greyson's drawers – smiling to myself when I come across the If Lost Please Return to Babe shirt I got him for our class trip – and when I find a pair of blue boxers, I realize they're my best option.
I tip-toe toward the bedroom door, and when the floor creaks under my feet, I freeze. I peek over my shoulder expecting to see his eyes wide open, the playful smirk I love plastered on his face, but thankfully, he's still asleep, and he looks beautiful. His wavy hair is messy and falling over his forehead. There are pillow lines indented on his rosy cheeks, and as he rolls onto his stomach and tucks his arms under the pillow, his full lips purse. Every time I think I've gotten used to how ridiculously handsome he is, I'm taken aback by him again.
I know that's a weird adjective to use for a man – beautiful – but he is. Inside and out.
As I descend the stairs, I hiss in pain. I'm sore – really sore. It's been a while since I've been with someone. Will and I have been separated over two months, but even before that, it had been an embarrassingly long time since we'd slept together. Looking back now, that should have been a sign. Aching vagina and all, I can't help but smile when I think about last night. It was incredible. We fit together perfectly – like two puzzle pieces joining together. The way he kissed me, and touched me, and made love to me – it was the greatest pleasure I've ever known.
I let Greyson sleep in because I want to surprise him with his favorite breakfast in bed – chocolate chip pancakes. I'm not incredibly familiar with his kitchen yet, but as I search through the cabinets I find the flour, sugar, salt, and baking soda. I grab the milk and one egg from the fridge, but I can't for the life of me find a bag of chocolate chips.
Is it not normal for a single man to have chocolate chips in his house?
As I'm rummaging through the kitchen, I suddenly hear a loud clank outside. I rush toward the front door, and when I throw it open, I'm taken aback.
