Page 44 of Malicious Marriage

I dress in just my boxers, then return to Clover twenty minutes later with a light breakfast of fruit, cereal, and tea.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

She yawns and stretches like a cat and when she opens her eyes, she looks at me like she can’t quite believe I’m here. “Wow,” she murmurs. “Good morning.”

20

CLOVER

He’s still here.

How often did I wake up and Ryan had run out on me? All he cared about was getting his dick wet like nothing else mattered, and here Dean stands with a tray in hand and the cutest smile on his face.

I’m still dancing the line between awake and asleep, so this feels almost like a dream. Even the sunlight trickling in through the curtains seems fuzzy, as if I’m still wrapped up in the blissful world of sleep.

“You made me breakfast?”

“If by made you mean raided your cupboards for a selection of things, then yes.” Dean sets the tray down on my lap, places a cup of tea on the bedside table, and relaxes back on the bed next to me. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I grabbed a selection.”

“Wow. I don’t typically eat breakfast, actually.”

“Clover!” Dean supports himself up on one elbow, and since he’s only wearing boxers, it’s very hard to keep my attention on his handsome face. “You need to eat breakfast.”

“I always feel unwell in the morning. I’m a coffee and snack at eleven kinda girl.”

“Hmm.” His nose wrinkles slightly and he nods. “Noted.”

I’m happy to appease him, though, so a few blueberries and a handful of cereal flakes make it into my mouth as I recline back against the pillows. Eating helps me wake up more and the fuzziness that this is a dream fades.

Dean is really here.

Lying half-naked in my bed feeding me breakfast as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Should I say something? Ask him about last night? Make sure he enjoyed it? The words struggle to come so I pop a few grapes into my mouth as I notice he isn’t eating anything.

“Mr.you have to eat breakfast,” I say, tilting the tray toward him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes.” Dean watches me with dark eyes that grow half-lidded when our gazes meet. “I am.”

“I’m not against sharing. Do you want some fruit?”

“My appetiteislearning toward something sweet.” His voice drops low, so, oblivious, I pick up the fruit bowl and offer it to him.

“Here.”

“Clover.” Dean softly rolls his eyes and leans into my offering, but instead of taking the bowl, he kisses the soft inside of my wrist. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

I stare at him blankly. “Huh?”

He laughs immediately. “I understand. Just… hold on.”

Just as I place the bowl back on the tray while trying to work through what he means, Dean suddenly pulls the covers away from me in such a rush. The tray tips, and I grab it with a squeal so none of the food topples, but Dean doesn’t seem to care. As soon as my legs are free, he’s between them with his strong hand clutching my thighs and spreading them wide.

“Dean!”

He pauses immediately. “Do you want me to stop?”

With my heart hammering and an embarrassed flush rushing through me like my blood is turning to lava, the option briefly enters my mind, but I quickly shake my head. I hadn’t made the connection that when he said he was hungry for something sweet, he was talking about me.