Page 40 of Overruled

Twenty-Two

Dani

It takes me a 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 staged neatly.

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.

Nothing about 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 everything else that 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 it beats 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 soft thud that 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 to either of 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…

own that “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.”

“Oh, did you,” I answer dryly.

“Definitely.” He nods down at the stove before peeking at me again with a smirk. “Especially with all the snoring you did.”

“I do not snore,” I scoff.

“Oh, you snore, Dani. Like a hibernating bear.” Another smile for my trouble. “But a very cute bear.”

“I hate you,” I grumble.

He blows me a kiss. “Gonna be a tougher sell on that after last night.”

“Whatever.”

“How many pancakes?”

“Just one.” He shoots me a look, and I roll my eyes. “Fine, fine . Two.”

He slides two pancakes onto a plate, adding eggs and bacon to the side before pushing it in front of me and dropping the bottle of syrup just beside a glass of orange juice.

I slather on a lot more syrup than necessary; my usual breakfast consists of protein bars or egg-white omelets whenever I have the time, and I have to admit, after all the…

activity last night, the more indulgent breakfast is exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

I pop a bite of pancake into my mouth, chewing for a moment before a satisfied moan slips out.

“Oh my God.”

Ezra looks smug as he takes the seat beside me at the island. “Wow, I don’t think you made noises like that last night.”

“Maybe you need to up your game,” I tell him through a mouthful of pancake.

He drapes his hand over the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing there and leaving goose bumps in its wake. “I think we both know my game was just fine.”

“I refuse to feed your ego,” I mutter after far too many seconds recovering from his touch.

“Of course not,” he chuckles before digging into his own food.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, each one making me feel increasingly more nervous about this whole thing. It hadn’t hit me yet what last night really means, and now I’m sitting here wondering what in the hell we are, what we’re doing, what will happen next.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Ezra says.

I peek at him from the side. “No you can’t.”

“You’re second-guessing everything.”

I pause. Am I? I consider this, deciding that’s not entirely true. “Not…second-guessing. No. Just assessing.”

“Evaluating the evidence?”

“What evidence?”

“Hm.” He pushes his plate away, turning in his seat to lean on the counter with one arm. He uses his other hand to hold up one finger. “Item one: You stayed the night.” He holds up another finger. “Item two: You’re eating breakfast with me without threatening me with bodily harm—”

“There’s still time,” I snort.

“And item three…” His lips curl in a blinding smile, one that makes my stomach twist. “You totally like me, Dani.”

I stare at him, stunned, torn between wanting to lash out at his arrogance and kiss the stupid smile off his face. Maybe both. Has it always been both? “That evidence seems circumstantial.”

“Oh, I have several cited sources.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to object.”

“Oh?” His fingers find my hip, teasing me where his shirt has rucked up from the way I’m sitting. “On what grounds?”

“It’s speculative.”

“Hmm.”

He leans in, and I don’t fight it, don’t even attempt to pull away from his mouth on mine.

My lashes flutter as his lips move languidly, his mouth tasting of syrup and appropriately giving me a rush that goes straight to my head.

I’m a little dazed when he pulls away, and it’s clear that I’m fighting a losing battle here.

“Overruled, I’d say,” he says softly, his green eyes shining with amusement.

I blow out a breath, running my fingers through my slightly tangled hair. “This is crazy, Ezra.”

“Is it?”

“We’re opposing counsel.”

“Yeah, but fighting is sort of foreplay for us. I don’t foresee that being a problem.”

I narrow my eyes, but I can’t exactly disagree. “I’m still going to do everything I can to win.”