Play With Me - Brittany Cournoyer Page 0,65
bed with the firm mattress and softest pillow I’d ever rested my head upon weren’t mine. The large dresser that looked to be made from the finest oak definitely wasn’t mine, and the leather jacket tossed haphazardly on the bench against the far wall probably cost more than I made in a month.
Then, as I stretched my arms over my head, I noticed two things. First, I was stark naked under the sheet that covered my lower half. Second, I had aches in places I never had before—mainly in my behind. And that’s when the memories of the night before came flooding back, and I smiled as I finally allowed myself to believe it hadn’t been a dream.
Stellan had treated my body as if it were made to be worshipped…but only by him. And worship it he did. He brought me to the edge only to pull back, before finally allowing me to tumble over into an abyss of pure pleasure. I’d never felt an orgasm pulse through my body the way the one last night did, and my toes curled at the memory.
Belatedly, I noticed his side of the bed was empty. When I reached out to touch the sheet, it was still warm. He must’ve snuck out of the room before I woke, and I tried to hold back the panic that threatened to consume my mind. I needed to take a deep breath and think about this logically rather than instantly go to the worst-case scenario.
For starters, I was in his house. Rather than leave, Stellan would have told me to get out. Secondly, the bed was still warm, which meant he had slept with me all night. He probably got up to use the bathroom or get ready for work.
Fuck. He probably needed to get to work, and I was lazing around like an inconsiderate houseguest, rather than getting out of bed so I could leave him be. With a flurry of activity, I flung the sheet back and jackknifed off the bed in search of my clothes. They weren’t in the pile on the floor where I’d left them, and after a quick glance around the room, I found them folded up neatly on an old trunk he’d positioned under the window.
My heart melted at the thoughtfulness behind his gesture, and after dressing, I made my way out of the room. I was halfway down the hall when the scent of coffee drifted toward me. I followed the intoxicating scent farther down the hallway and came to a pause in the doorway leading to the kitchen at the sight before me.
Stellan was standing at the stove, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs with his hair messy and hanging loosely around his shoulders. In the light of day, I could finally see the ink on his back, and my eyes grazed over the intricate design. Leaning against the doorframe, I tracked his movements as he started adding thick pieces of bacon to a pan before expertly cracking some eggs into a bowl with one hand.
He hadn’t left me at all, and clearly wasn’t in any hurry for me to go, either. And the fact he was making me breakfast had my heart swelling a bit more and the butterflies in my stomach flapping their wings even harder.
“Do you like cheese in your eggs?” he startled me by asking.
“How long did you know I was standing here?” I asked, rather than answering him.
“I knew the instant you were in the doorway.”
“How? You didn’t look at me.”
“I didn’t have to. I’m always aware of you when you’re in the room.”
“Oh.”
He turned and looked at me over his shoulder. “Yeah. Oh. Cheese?”
I shoved off the doorframe and walked toward him. “I love cheese. But should you really be frying bacon without a shirt?” I asked him.
Stellan shrugged and winked at me. “Worried about me, are you?”
“Or maybe just your tattoos. I kind of like them.”
He checked the bacon, then added a generous amount of shredded cheese to the egg mixture before turning to face me. “Which one is your favorite?”
I took my time letting my eyes roam over his stomach and chest. God, he was as gorgeous as his ink, and I wanted to kiss each and every tattoo. “It’s hard to choose just one. Each one is beautiful and unique.”
Stellan’s eyes flared before leaning over to put his lips on mine. As much as I wanted him to deepen it, or even bend me over