He'll have to break all the rules to keep her, but first she has to break just one and let him in...
It's taken four years, but Anna Fray has finally put the past behind her. Mostly. She fills her days working in a bar and her nights watching bad ro...
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Nightmare had left my arms when I woke up, but I could still feel the warmth of her presence in the space beside my chest. The events of last night must have shaken her as much me.
I stretched, arching my back and pointing my toes, as I listened to the sound of a teaspoon tinkling against ceramic. My foot brushed against something papery and I smirked as the orange paper bag from Kelly floated to the ground. It had still been full when I fell asleep, but I should have known it wouldn't have stayed that way with Atticus and his sweet tooth.
The thought of said striking Watcher made my stomach flutter. I could still smell his scent on my hair from where he'd held me last night. It was a deep masculine aroma that had always been delicious but now made my skin tingle. There was something about remembering how it had felt to have his arms wrapped around me, that changed how that smell affected me. I could still feel the firm contours of his torso under my cheek and the swell of his bicep against my back. Combined with the thin fabric of his t-shirt, I couldn't help but imagine the sculpted physique below and the things it was capable of.
The pop of the toaster sounded from the kitchen, breaking my wandering thoughts. Instead, I became all too aware of the damp patch on the cushion from where I'd drooled in the night, and the way my tangled hair tickled my face.
I lurched up, wiping the remnants of drool from my mouth, and running my hands through my hair. Atticus had seen me look worse, especially last night, but some part of me didn't want to add another example to the vault.
Just as I cleared the mascara residue from under my eyes, he breezed into the room with a steaming cup of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. My mouth watered at the sight.
"Good morning," he said with a faint smile as he handed me breakfast. I watched him over my coffee cup as he settled himself on the end of the sofa. He was in last night's clothes, although they looked as pristine as always. He looked good, deliciously good,
"Morning." I balanced the plate of toast on the arm rest as I took a deep breath of the caffeine goodness in my hands.
"Did you stay over?" I asked, although I couldn't see any evidence of where he'd slept.
He nodded and an anxious hand ran through his hair. "I hope you don't mind." His eyes flicked over my expression. "I wanted—" he paused, biting his lip as he watched me.
"What?"
He shifted, leaning forward as he looked at me with cautious eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were OK."
I paused mid-sip and our conversation from last night echoed through my mind. Instinct told me to scold him but the memory of standing in the kitchen doorway and seeing Nightmare alive and well stopped me. If just for a morning, I'd try and put my neuroses to one side.
I swallowed the reflexive rebuke with a mouthful of coffee and asked a question instead. It had plague me since I'd gotten my memories back.
"Last week, you asked me to the flat on purpose, didn't you?"
