“Sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I had to be rude. We broke up six months ago, and she’s still calling my mother three times a week for coffee dates. Pisses me off.”
She turns and walks up the street, and my stomach drops in pity for her. “She’s beautiful.”
“She is,” he replies.
“Why didn’t it work out with her?” I ask, distracted by her beauty.
He kisses my temple and holds his cheek to mine. “Because she wasn’t you.”
Chapter 17
I wake slowly. The room is semidark, and it feels weird not hearing a lawn mower.
The faint sound of traffic in the background is almost relaxing.
I look over to the man sleeping beside me. He’s on his back. His dark hair and olive skin are a striking contrast to the crisp white linen, and his thick black lashes flutter, as if he’s dreaming. His pouty big red lips softly part as he inhales.
I’ve never been with such a beautiful-looking man before. Everything about him is out of a catalog. Tall, dark, and handsome. A rippled and naturally athletic body . . . but it’s what’s inside that calls to me.
Underneath the fancy wrapping and the Miles Media surname . . . is a beautiful, gentle soul.
The man inside of this perfect body is who I want. The rest of him is just window dressing. I smile as I inhale deeply with hope.
This is a revelation.
I’ve found a man who ticks every box, and okay, there may be some issues with my children, but wouldn’t I have that with any man I meet?
He wants to try, and God damn it, I’m giving it my best go.
I run the backs of my fingers through the hair on his lower stomach that leads down to his pubic hair.
The power of touch.
I never knew how much I needed it, craved it. And now that we’ve acknowledged that what’s between us is more, I can hardly keep my needy hands off him.
Mine.
He’s looking forward to the future, and for the first time in a long time . . . so am I.
His eyes slowly open on a deep inhale, and I smile over at him. “Morning.”
He pulls me close and holds me tight. “Anderson, you’re like a fucking rooster. Why are you awake so early?”
“Just admiring the view.” I smile as I kiss his chest.
His naked skin up against mine is warm and hard . . . perfect.
He pulls out of my arms and gets up and goes into the bathroom, and I lie in bed wearing a stupid smile. I can’t wipe it off my face.
After a while he comes back and lies on his side, facing me. His eyes are still sleepy, and it’s obvious he wasn’t ready to wake yet. “What?” he mumbles.
“Nothing . . . feeling happy.”
He smiles sleepily. His eyes drift back closed.
I lean up onto my elbow and stare over at him. “How many women have you slept with, Tris?”
“Too many to admit to,” he replies, eyes still closed.