Everett Holden had sworn to live the rest of his life a single man, but his plans are disrupted when he finds himself sharing an apartment with his best friend's ex - the one woman he detests with every fiber of his being yet simultaneously desires...
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ON SATURDAY MORNING, as soon as my eyes open to the sun's blinding light from the nearby window, I yawn and snuggle closer under my comforter. But then I realize I'm naked, and then those muscles I used to shift under the comforter begin to bark in agony, all of the memories from last night ramming into my brain like an ice pick.
Fuck.
Everett. His tongue on my body. Branding me inside and out. All of the confessions he made...
How am I supposed to ever face him again without dying of embarrassment? The man explored every nook and cranny of my body. Everett. Holden. The man who I was determined hated me with every fiber of his being was inside me last night and gave me multiple orgasms. What in the actual hell?
Slowly climbing out of bed, I wince at the throbbing pain between my legs and glance at myself in the mirror above the dresser.
Oh, god. It's worse than I thought. My neck is covered in purple bruises from the hickeys, and the hickeys only continue down my chest, one on each breast. I turn around and gasp at the visible hand marks branded on my ass cheeks and more hickeys along the column of my spine. There is no way I can go to work like this. I'll have to call out for the first time since my grandmother's death.
What does this mean? Are Everett and I...friends now? Does this mean the hatred spewed between us for years has finally ended? I'm unsure how to hate someone who made me feel that good.
We both agreed this doesn't have to be serious, and I don't want it to be, but now that we're rooming together in his house, how am I supposed to act around him? He said that last night wouldn't be the last night we fucked, and I'm glad for that, but can I tackle him now whenever I see him? Can I make a move, or do I have to wait until we're in a screaming match again to lunge at him?
There are so many questions I have to ask, but none of them will be answered if I lock myself away in this room, no matter how much I want to.
After I call in sick to the hardware store, I shower and change into a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts before I swallow the embarrassment and go downstairs. Surprised, I find a shirtless Everett standing before the stove, flipping bacon. Soft rock is playing softly from a nearby speaker, and as my eyes follow the muscles contracting in his back, they settle on his hips, swaying from side to side. The man is dancing.
Trying to hide my smile, I loudly screech the barstool back before I sit down on it, interrupting his little dance routine. He glances over his shoulder and smiles. He smiles!
"Breakfast?" He asks, waving the pan in my direction.
Wordlessly I nod my head and watch in fascination as he continues to sway those sexy hips of his. When he passes a fully-loaded plate in front of me, I mumble a thank you, the breath taken from my throat when he leans over and hooks a finger into the neckline of my hoodie, pulling it away to inspect the damage.
