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I pressed my lips together to keep from saying that I’d never let go. I wouldn’t have the first time if Nick hadn’t made me.
Even now, he was going to murder me, but when Stella was here in my arms, I found that I didn’t care all that much.
Fortunately,I woke up first.
Or maybe it was very unfortunate.
Stella had only gotten closer, her legs now wound around mine. She had an iron grip on my arm, and her chest was pressed against me.
The plan was to move away. I stayed like a fool.
But then her breathing stuttered, and she jerked away. “Fuck,” she cursed. She turned to me, her cheeks dark red. “Of course you’re awake.”
“I said I wouldn’t mention it.”
“Then don’t.”
She was gone before I could say anything else, and I counted my lucky stars that she hadn’t noticed that I was hard as hell.
My body never forgot how much it wanted her. I’d called this purely a survival-based, warmth-sharing session. Stella feeling my boner would raise some questions that I didn’t know how to answer.
After I got up, I checked on the fire, stoking it back to life. Once the furnace was closed, I wandered into the kitchen, getting what I needed to make sure we had food and drink.
The fridge had held in a lot of its coolness, but I grabbed eggs and milk quickly, not wanting it to lose more than it needed to. I also grabbed Amma’s cast-iron pan before making a second trip to get things to make coffee with.
“Are you a coffee drinker now?” I asked as I set down the final items in the living room.
“Is there a copious amounts of cream and sugar?”
“We can make something work.”
“Then yes. How are you making it? I don’t think a coffee machine will work without power.”
“Hot water and a French press. This stove is for more than keeping the house warm.”
“Since when does Amma have a French press?”
“I got it for her a while ago.”
Stella watched silently as I worked. The water warmed and then I poured it over the coffee grounds. I checked the clock on the wall and gave it three minutes to brew. Once it was done, I handed her a mug. “Here.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Thanks. What is all of the rest for?”
“I’m making eggs. Or attempting to.”
“I’ll make them,” she offered. “You’ll destroy the cast-iron pan if you don’t use it right. Hand it over.”
I got out of the way as she took over the warm pan, cracking the eggs into the skillet. She mixed milk and butter into it, creating a fluffy scramble for us both.
“Good work,” I said.
“You haven’t tasted it yet.”
“You made it, so I know it’s good.”
She smiled under the praise, making me wonder if her idiot of an ex ever said anything like this to her at all. How could he have had a woman like her and messed it up? How did he not see her for what she was?
Stella sat across from me and took a bite of her eggs. “Fuck,” she nearly moaned. “It’s been too long since I had good eggs.”