I roll over in bed, reaching for James, but find his side of the bed cold. His side. I make it sound like he belongs there. As if he's spent night after night next to me, holding me. But it's not like that. Last night was the first time I ever fell asleep next to another human being in this bed.

Even when Saskia stays over, she has the guest room.

Attempting to ignore the ache in my chest, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and pad into my en suite bathroom. Brushing my teeth, I glance in the mirror, noticing the bright red mark on my chest. Teeth marks. He really did mark me. But then he left.

Even though we didn't have sex last night, just falling asleep in his arms was something surreal. Never did I think I would ever be in this position. Falling for a man twice my age. Okay, more than twice my age. But it doesn't matter because even after our admissions last night, he left.

Once I’ve freshened up, I head toward the kitchen and am halted in my tracks when I find James dressed in only his black slacks and nothing else flipping pancakes. He doesn't see me as he moves around my kitchen as if he's always been there.

I can't help just watching him. Reveling in his happiness. It hangs around him like a cloud, light, fluffy, and white. Last night he seemed haunted, almost as if he was forever in darkness, and that's when I decided to drag him from it.

If I had to offer up whatever light he saw in me just to see him smile, I'd do it. He spins on his heel finding me staring at him. I'm dressed in just my floppy gray sweater and knee-high black-and-white striped socks.

"Good morning, sunshine," he offers with a lopsided grin that makes him look far younger than his forty-something years.

"I thought you'd left," I tell him, sliding over the laminate flooring and settling on one of the stools which stand at the counter.

"You made me dinner. The least I could do is cook you breakfast." He stacks two plates high with hot pancakes, syrup, and some fresh cream I didn't even know we had. "Your kitchen is a breeze to work."

"You work a kitchen?" I giggle as I take a bite of the pastry on my plate. Flavor bursts on my tongue, and I can't help moaning out loud.

"If you keep making those sounds, I'll be working you, sweet girl." He leans in, planting a kiss on my forehead. The gesture is sweet, almost romantic.

"I thought you weren't the romantic type?" I question in between mouthfuls of delicious pancakes dripping with sugary syrup and heavily whipped cream.

He glances at me then. A cloud of worry and darkness changes his carefree tone and attitude, and I'm afraid I've fucked it up. Silence stills us for a moment, but then, he offers a smile. "I wasn’t. Things change. Apparently, an old dog can learn new tricks." He chuckles. He fucking chuckles, and the sound fills my heart with happiness.

"So that makes me the owner, right?" I taunt, teasing him as I watch him inhale the breakfast on the plate. "Jesus, Stalker Darden. Better be careful learning all these new tricks. I might miss the grumpy old fucker who stole me from my apartment and took my virginity." My sassy remark earns me a hungry glare.

"Don't tempt me, love. I'll put you on this counter and eat that sweet little cunt next," he growls, rising from the stool and heading toward the coffee machine.

His promise is illicit and filthy, but my body is already responding in kind. Needy and achy. Who knew one good session of sex could turn me into a wanton slut. I'm turning into Saskia.

I watch him pouring two large mugs of freshly brewed java, deciding now is the time to tell him. "I told my best friend about you," I say in conversation.

He stiffens. "And?"

"She reckons you're just scared of feelings. Any normal man is apparently," I inform him, grabbing my mug from his offered hand and sipping the thick, dark liquid.

"I'm not normal, Cerys. I told you, there's so much you don't know about me." This time, he is serious. There's no longer the carefree fun from earlier.

"Then why don't you tell me. I'm not here to fix you, James, but I'd like to know who I'm falling for." The words tumble from my mouth involuntarily, and I immediately want to swallow them back in.

He flits his eyes to me. Shock present on his handsome face. His gaze roams mine, as if he's trying to ascertain if I'm lying or not. But I know for a fact I'm not. I am falling. Perhaps I've already fallen.

Immature.

Stupid.

"You're falling for me?" he questions, keeping his eyes on mine, searching, probing with only those dark orbs. They penetrate me more now than they ever did when we first met. They steal my words, grip my throat, and cause my heart to stutter.

"I think so."

"Cerys," he mutters, leaning closer so his face is in mine. Literally, he's all I can see. "I meant what I asked you in my apartment."

"Before or after you'd fucked me?" I question with a biting lilt to my voice, hoping I sound stronger than I feel. Truthfully, I'm out of my depth. I'm new to all this. Emotion isn't something I know how to handle. Especially when it’s this intense. There’s nothing that prepared me for the onslaught of emotions that seem to be barreling through me at a hundred miles an hour.

"I want to keep you. Do you know what that means?" he questions earnestly and warily.

"You want to lock me in a dungeon and have your wicked way with me?" I sass.

Another chuckle vibrates through him, lightening the mood that seems to be clouding the kitchen. The coffee in my hands doesn't calm me like it always does. I doubt anything can.

"I want to lock you away. I want to fuck my fat cock into your cunt and knock you up. I want to see you swell up with my babies. Not just one, Cerys. I want you to give me a family." He laughs wryly. "Jesus," he expresses, raking his fingers through his hair. "Never did I see myself here. Pleading with a girl to have my children, to offer me something I never thought I could give anyone."

"I'm . . . I'm sorry." I don't know why I'm apologizing, but it feels like the right thing to do.

"No," James grits out. "Never apologize for the way you make me feel."

He reaches for my face, cupping my cheek in his large hand, and pulls me to him. Our lips meet in a heated kiss. I moan, parting my lips for his tongue to enter. To explore and delve into my heat. My warmth.

His low growl is enough evidence that I please him. I offer him something no woman he's ever been with has ever given, and that in turn gives me confidence. I've always been afraid. A little nerdy girl with weird clothes.

The artsy one.

The girl they made fun of.

Many times, I've run home after school in tears because I was the weirdo all the kids picked on. Called names. But now, now I'm here with the most amazing man, and he cares for me. He wants to claim me and make me his.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes implore me wordlessly to say yes. He's begging. This time, I'm the one in control. But as the moment passes, I realize I was always in control.

James never took, he never forced, and the way he bombarded into my life wasn't done violently. He did it lovingly even if he'll never admit it. He is a romantic. I see it in the way he now asks me for permission.

I nod.

"Are you going to make love to me now?" I question, earning me a sexy chuckle.

"Little girl, I'm going to make love to you. I'm going to eat your sweet little pussy, then I'm going to claim that tight asshole until you're chanting my name like a prayer," he promises, causing me to blush at his filthy words.

"I'm not religious at all," I bite back as his hands find my hips.

"Today, all day, you'll find God again, and his name is James."

With that, he lifts me off the stool and walks me back to my bedroom.