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But I definitely don’t tell her that.

Twenty-Two

Dani

It takes mea moment to realize that I’m not in my own bed. I nuzzle my face against sheets that feel like they have a higher thread count than my functioning brain cells at this hour, reaching beside myself blindly to grab a pillow. I roughly tug it over my face to block out the sun, thinking a few more minutes of sleep won’t hurt.

Then I smell the bacon.

I shoot up in bed, the events of last night coming back to me in a rush. The sudden movement jostles a very fat ball of gray fur, Purrgood blinking at me with a look of disdain that only a cat can give, his back arching for a moment before he settles back into the sheets, looking miffed that I dared to disturb him.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” I mutter, reaching to scratch behind his ears as I take in the room.

In the light of day, Ezra’s room seems much bigger than it did last night. Granted, I didn’t see beyond the bed, but still. The walls are painted a warm sienna, the mahogany furniture stagedneatly. It’s masculine and very bachelor-playboy-esque—all the things I thought Ezra to be before last night. Or maybe I’ve been realizing for a while that he was more than I first thought him to be, and last night just put a period on the thought.

I pull the sheets up to cover myself as I rub the sleep from my eyes, Ezra’s confession about his fucked-up family flooding back into my thoughts.Nothingabout any of what he’d told me had even been in the realm of what I’d considered possible when I happened to spare thoughts about Ezra’s family, and knowing what I know now, it almost makes me feel…guilty. For all the times I’ve spit venom at him for his less-than-savory methods. Had he ever even had a choice in them?

And then there was after.

A shiver passes through me as I remember everythingelsethat happened last night, things that happened more than once, truth be told. God, I’m sore. My thighs ache and my core feels tight, but when I press my hand over my navel, all I can focus on is the fluttering that comes with the memories of all the things we did in this bed the night prior. And what’s more…I’m acutely aware of how I can’t dredge up even a single regret, not even the slightest urge to stomp into the other room and convince Ezra that it was a mistake, that it won’t be happening again.

There’s a sweet smell wafting in now to mingle with the easily recognizable one of sizzling bacon, and my stomach rumbles as if on instinct. I’m sure Ezra would be thrilled to comment on the appetite we worked up together. I’m already rolling my eyes at the thought.

I steal his dress shirt from the floor, throwing it on and buttoning several of the buttons before slipping back into my underwear. I won’t be invited to Fashion Week anytime soon, but itbeats cramming myself into last night’s dress. I check my appearance in the mirror in the attached bathroom, grimacing at the black streaks under my eyes, a clear sign of someone who has been thoroughly debauched. I clean them as best as I can with Ezra’s soap, deciding that it’s the best I can do given the circumstances. I swipe some of his toothpaste afterward and brush my teeth with my finger, not quite satisfied with this either, but Ezra is just going to have to take it or leave it.

Purrgood has migrated to the edge of the bed when I step out of the bathroom, plopping down from the mattress with a softthudthat speaks of his heft. Seriously, this cat has a primordial pouch that drags on the ground. He rubs my legs in the doorway, and seeing as I can’t seem to say no toeitherof the men in this apartment, I stoop to pick him up and cradle him to my chest, petting his back. I leave Ezra’s bedroom and wander back down the hall toward the open space of the living room, immediately spotting Ezra’s broad back behind the island. He’s bent over the stove, working quietly on what I have to assume is our breakfast.

No one has made me breakfast since Grant. I don’t know how to feel about that.

He hears me coming by the time I’m passing the back of the couch, turning to flash me an easy smile. “Morning.” He gestures to the pan he’s holding by the handle. “I didn’t know how you liked your eggs, but I figured scrambled is pretty standard.”

“Did you make pancakes?”

“From scratch,” he tells me proudly.

He abandons the pan for a moment, circling the kitchen island and reaching to cup my face in his hands so that he can steal a slow kiss. Which leads to more fluttering in my stomach.

“I like you in my clothes,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“Well, it was this or nothing.”

“Mm. That’s a real Sophie’s choice.” He notices his roommate in my arms. “Should I be jealous?”

I shrug one shoulder. “Well, Purrgood would never leave a lady alone in his bed, I’m sure.”

“Someone had to cook the lady breakfast to try to entice her to stay longer.”

“Oh, is that your ploy?”

“I don’t know, is it working?”

My eyes dart to the stove, where the delicious smells are originating from, my lips pursing. Ezra laughs, knowing he’s won. He pecks another swift kiss against my mouth, abandoning me on admittedly swaying feet as he goes back to the stove. I let Purrgood down on the floor, and he trots off lazily as I slip into one of the seats at the island, leaning on my elbow to watch him.

It seems wholly unfair that I woke up looking like a drowned rat, and yet Ezra seems to simply…ownthat “just out of bed” look. His golden hair looks tantalizingly mussed, which makes me think about the number of times I tugged on it with my fingers. His worn, thin T-shirt clings to the sculpted lines of his shoulders perfectly, which makes me think about how I traced some of those lines with my tongue. Even the way his flannel pajama bottoms hug his ass sends me on a downward spiral of dirty memories. It could become a real problem if I don’t get a handle on it quickly.

“Smells good,” I comment.

He shoots me another grin over his shoulder. “I figured you’d need the fuel after last night.”