Promise Me

Chapter Eighteen

Kendall

The pillow underneath my cheek is soft like cashmere. So are the sheets covering my naked body, and I want to stay in this spot forever. I’m warm, snuggly, and—I take a deep breath—surrounded by the smell of fresh laundered—mayb

e even new—high-thread-count cotton and him.

Vaughn.

Vaughn with his skillful hands, multitalented mouth, incredible stamina, and decided disposition to make me feel special. After having me on the patio, the rest of our naked time was spent covering every surface in his room, moving through intimate positions that made me blush. And I may be a novice, but when he moved with slow, purposeful strokes inside me, our gazes locked on each other, I felt more than just a physical connection.

I blink my eyes open.

I’m not falling for him or anything, just extremely satiated.

Sunlight slips inside the room underneath the partially opened curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows. Last night Vaughn had wrapped me in his arms and shared points of interest lighting up the cityscape beyond the glass. When a shooting star had twinkled across the sky, we’d both caught the show. He’d said, since we saw the star together, we should make a wish together.

“Aloud?” I’d asked. “How will it come true, then?”

“I already got my wish tonight, so anything else is a bonus,” he’d whispered in my ear. It had tickled. In places besides my earlobe.

“Okay. What should we wish for?”

With his chin resting on my bare shoulder, he’d let out a deep breath. “Nude Mondays.”

“Be serious!”

“I am. Think about it. Everyone hates Mondays. But if clothing was optional, I bet it would become everyone’s favorite day of the week. Better than Friday.” Then he’d kissed the slope of my neck and we’d stopped talking.

I roll over now to smooth my hand across the spot he left vacant sometime this morning. Before we’d fallen asleep around two a.m., he told me I could sleep in as late as I wanted. He had to meet up with his trainer for a trail run at nine. I giggled when he made the cutest face and said he’d cancel, but doing so last minute meant a follow-up workout that would leave him sore for days.

Speaking of sore, I’m achy between my legs. An ache I’ll gladly suffer again and again. I smile at the reminder of the amazing night I had.

His bedside clock reads 10:07. Ten. Oh. Seven. I can’t remember the last time I slept so peacefully for eight hours straight. The Vaughn Effect is officially at maximum-strength potency. Sighing, I sit up, keeping myself covered. It’s then that I notice a plate on the nightstand, holding two of the chocolate chip cookies I brought last night. Beside it is a pink blossom that looks suspiciously like one of Aunt Sally’s carefully tended damask roses standing tall in a drinking glass half full of water. Propped against the glass is a plain white notecard with my name scrawled across it.

I fall back onto my pillow with the biggest grin ever in the history of grins. He carefully planned last night, but this? This is spur of the moment. If Vaughn keeps this up, my heart doesn’t stand a chance.

Heart? Uh-uh. Good friends with benefits, remember?

Of course I remember. But I roll out of bed anyway, dress quickly—sans panties, since I can’t find them—and then sit at the edge of the comforter and bite into a cookie. Sex multiple times obviously leaves a girl with an appetite.

My eyes stray to the rose. It’s in full bloom, and I can’t resist touching one velvety petal. Yes, there’s a whole bush full right next door, but Vaughn picked this one for me. Picturing him sneaking over to steal a flower puts a smile on my face. A little naughty, a lot charming, and totally Vaughn. He’s showing me all his sides even though I don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it.

And the note reads as follows… Kendall, has anyone ever told you that you sleep like an angel? You do. A sexy angel. Next time I promise to wake you properly. ~Vaughn

I read his words several times before tucking the note into my handbag. I don’t have the words to describe the joy they bring me. With my shoes and purse dangling in one hand and the flower in the other, I slip out his front door.

Dixie and Amber are sitting side-by-side at the breakfast bar when I walk into the kitchen. They both stop mid cereal spoon to their mouths when they see me. Even Snowflake looks up from chewing her dog bone to check me out. I swear she nods her head in approval.

“Looks like someone had her cherry popped,” Dixie says.

I’m pretty sure cherry describes the color of my cheeks. I put my things down on the counter and stand across from them.

“Pretty flower,” Amber says.

“Yes,” I say in answer to both their observations.

A beat of silence passes and then the three of us start giggling like…well…sisters. Don’t get me wrong. I have no delusions about us being best friends. But there’s a connection here. One I hope we can continue to cultivate.