Dead Pretty - Samantha Towle Page 0,57

session, we decide to take turns, having a shower.

I go in first. Part of me feels wistful that we can’t shower together. But I can’t let him see my scars. It’s just the way it is, and there is no point in having a pity party over it.

When I get out of the shower, Jack isn’t in the bedroom, so I quickly dry off, putting on my bra and pulling on a tank top.

I call out to Jack that I’m finished in the shower, and he replies that he’ll be there soon.

It doesn’t take me long to finish getting ready. I didn’t wash my hair because I’d already washed it last night. So, I brush it out and then plait it, bringing it over my shoulder, checking it in the mirror as I do it. I apply moisturizer to my face. My skin does not like this cold weather, and it’s also a little sore from Jack’s stubble, as are my lips, so I apply some lip balm to them. Well, actually, a lot of my body is sore. Muscles were used last night that I hadn’t even known that I had, and between my legs is a constant reminder that Jack was there.

I know that, all day at the library, I’ll be thinking about every moment of last night with him.

Good thing I’m not a guy; otherwise, I would be hiding a stiffy all day long.

That thought makes me chuckle.

Jack walks into the bedroom at that moment. “What’s got you laughing?” He drops what looks like clothes on my bed and comes up behind me. Wrapping his arms around me, he presses a kiss to the side of my neck.

“Just thinking that I’m glad I am not a guy.”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and a smile lifts his lips. “Got to say, I’m glad that you’re not a guy too.” He kisses my neck again and then releases me. “I made coffee,” he tells me. “I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so I made eggs with some bacon and pancakes.”

“I have bacon? And pancake mix?”

“Nope.” He grins before disappearing into the bathroom. “But I did. I ran over to my apartment and grabbed the stuff. Feel free to start without me. I’ll be quick in the shower.”

I walk out of my bedroom into the living room to see breakfast laid out over the countertop, waiting for me.

I can’t remember the last time that a guy I slept with made breakfast for me … which is probably because it was never.

The last time I actually had breakfast made for me was when my adoptive mom was still alive. Sadness pierces my chest at the thought. She always loved to make breakfast in the morning, and Dad and I enjoyed eating what she’d made. Cole, not so much. He’s never been a morning person. More of an elusive night owl.

I walk over to the counter, seeing Eleven in the kitchen, eating some kitty food out of a little bowl that Jack must have brought over from his place.

“Morning, cutie.” I bend down to pet her, stroking her back, but she’s too busy eating to care about me.

I seat myself on one of the two stools I have at my counter. Even though the food looks and smells delicious, I decide to wait for Jack.

I want to eat this breakfast with him.

While I wait, I pour out the coffee into two mugs that Jack put out for us.

I add creamer and sugar to mine and take a sip.

He makes damn good coffee.

I could keep him just for that fact alone.

My eyes drift over to the section of the kitchen counter where Jack fucked me last night.

My whole body heats from just the memory alone.

Sex with Jack is everything I thought it would be and more.

But now that the night is over with, I’m not really sure where we go from here.

I know I shouldn’t continue seeing Jack.

But I have proven that when it comes to him, I have zero self-control.

Jack appears from my bedroom, freshly showered. His hair is still damp, and he’s wearing a clean T-shirt and jeans. Those must be the clothes he put on my bed. He must have brought them back from his apartment when he went over there.

His feet are bare. I can’t help but look at them as he walks over to me.

He has nice feet for a man.

And there is nothing sexier than a man in jeans and bare feet.

He drags