Page 29

The table is set. A pair of coffee mugs are placed opposite each other. Same with a water glass, plus a pitcher positioned between the two seats. A pile of pancakes is on top of one serving plate. Crispy bacon on another. A bottle of expensive maple syrup is next to the pancakes. Fluffy scrambled eggs fill a bowl behind the bacon.

Empty plates tell me where I’m supposed to sit: right next to Adrian, of course.

He’s sitting in his seat, a scowl on his face, fingers tapping anxiously against the tabletop. He’s coiled tightly, eyes narrowed a little as though he’s in some kind of discomfort. A headache maybe?

Either way, the charming bastard from last night has been replaced by an Adrian I’d hoped to never see again: a pissy, angry bully who was ready to say anything to remind me that I’m just not good enough for him.

I almost turn around. The Loni I once was would have. But now?

I step into the kitchen, the sole of my sneaker slapping just enough to catch his attention.

To my surprise, his scowl fades into an expression of… relief, maybe? Pleasure? I don’t know, but he doesn’t look as pissed once he realizes that I came down to join him for breakfast after all.

He beckons me toward him. “Come here.”

Um. Okay.

I head toward the table. At the same time, Adrian rises to his feet. It’s a shame that his bare chest is covered. Just like how I changed, he’s wearing a new suit, the buttons regretfully done up to the top. His tie is a forest green that sets off his eyes—though that could be the look of lust that flashes in their depths as he watches my approach.

He holds out his hand. “Give your husband a kiss.”

I blanch, stepping back. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

He moves forward, laying his hand on my bicep. “And I haven’t had a cigarette in twelve hours. So I don’t give a fuck what you taste like right now. I haven’t smoked. You owe me a kiss. I want it.”

This is some kind of game he’s playing. It has to be. There is absolutely no way that he’s fiending this bad for his nicotine, but instead of telling me to fuck off and lighting up, he wants me to kiss him.

Only that’s exactly what he wants.

Before I can shake him off, he shifts his hand again, finding the pulse-point in my neck. I melt against him, bracing my arms on his hard chest, parting my lips to let him find out just how wicked my morning breath can be.

If I thought it would bother him, I’m way wrong. In fact, the kiss seems to last even longer than the one from last night, to the point that I find myself returning to his mouth once he pulls back.

He kisses me again, and when sense slams into me so that I pull away this time, he tightens his grip on my neck.

Adrian rests his forehead against mine. “Ah. Much better.”

I shouldn’t care.

I shouldn’t ask.

I shouldn’t?—

“Hey. You okay?”

“Internet says it can take a couple of weeks for the nicotine withdrawals to end. First few days are the worst, though, so if I can make it past tomorrow, the rest will be a breeze.” He strokes his thumb over my cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

He might be.

I’m not.

A pulse of pain shoots through me. I wince, trying to cover up the discomfort before he notices it.

Too late.

His gaze narrows on me. “Loni? What’s the matter?”

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. He’s always been a perceptive bastard.