Amanda

 

I know I should continue to my parents’ house, but I can’t. I don’t want to leave him.

 

What the hell is wrong with me? When did I become a fawning fangirl? Maybe right around the time I had a screaming orgasm. Or the second time. Or the third time. I don’t remember. All I know is I’m hooked.

 

It’s not just the sex. I remind myself of this while we’re tangled up together. He’s asleep, snoring slightly. I’m surfing the sweet spot between asleep and awake, everything hazy and comfortable. My head is on his chest, his heartbeat lulling me back to sleep.

 

No, screw it all. I ought to get out of bed and roll on. I can’t stay here forever. The feeling of having somewhere else to be is putting a damper on the time we’re together, anyway. It was one thing while the snow was falling, another while waiting for the world to dig out. Now? I’m afraid of overstaying my welcome, no matter how good a cook I happen to be.

 

Or how good a lay. Was I good? My eyes open, startled by this thought. I was thrilled by Christopher’s prowess, shocked at the number of times he made me climax. I hardly ever did with my ex. Now I’m worried I wasn’t good. All Lucas ever required was my presence in bed. I didn’t need to do anything, didn’t even get the chance to. Jeez, did I screw it up?

 

I couldn’t have been too bad. He seemed to enjoy himself well enough. I remember the way he grunted and shouted, the way he twitched in my mouth. I get a little wet thinking about it, the sounds that came out of his mouth when I was sucking him. I must have done something right.

 

Then he’d been weird. He’d been so weird. I’d asked the wrong question. I could kick myself now for it. Was that what good sex did to a person? Turn them into a total idiot?

 

No, damn it. I won’t do this to myself. I had every right to ask. It was a totally innocent question. I did that all the time when I was with Lucas. All the nights I spent in bed, cowering in the dark, wondering what I’d done this time to upset him. I shouldn’t have made that remark, shouldn’t have looked at him that way. I should have known better than to set him off. It’s become a reflex, I guess, blaming myself for another person’s actions.

 

Besides, it wasn’t as if Christopher kicked me out of the house for it. He didn’t even ask me to go back to the spare bedroom. We spent the night right here, with me in his arms. It was bliss. The best sleep I’ve had in years, and I almost never liked sleeping close to Lucas. I was never comfortable.

 

I’m wide awake now, thoughts of my miserable past driving sleep far away. I look at Christopher’s body. God, he’s beautiful. An underwear model on a billboard is the first thing that comes to mind, every muscle fully defined. Yet he’s not some preening, prissy boy, obsessed with his looks. There isn’t even a mirror anywhere in this room. He’s a man, truly and fully. Rugged, take charge. His body is the result of hard work, not hard workouts.

 

That being said, there’s a certain part of him that is not the result of workouts. I glance up at his face, still peaceful in sleep. I still hear his snores. I take the opportunity to get a peek under the sheets, currently around his hips. Damn. The boy is blessed. I remember the way he felt inside me. So big. So thick. It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping him right this minute.

 

It’s best to let him sleep. He seems to be happy when he’s asleep, his face falling into much softer lines. Normally, he looks like he’s got a chip on his shoulder, like he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. His brow is almost permanently creased in thought. I wonder what happened to make him look that way.

 

There are demons aplenty in this man’s life. I wish I could help him, just as much as I wish I could stop myself from wanting to help him. It’s not my job. He’s not my responsibility. I don’t have to take care of anybody but myself.

 

I can’t help the desire, though. Damn it.

 

Am I falling for him?

 

It’s like he hears my thoughts, stirring. One eye opens ever so slightly, then closes immediately. “So bright.”

 

I giggle. “Yeah, that’s usually what happens in the morning.”

 

“What time is it? I’m usually up when it’s still dark.”

 

I roll over, checking my phone on the nightstand. “It’s after eight o’clock.”

 

“Are you serious? I have to go down to let Scout out. I’m surprised he hasn’t been whining at the door yet.” I give him room to sit up, drinking in the sight of him, the way every muscle plays beneath his skin like a symphony. I hate myself for even thinking something so corny, but it’s true.

 

Then he stands, and that magnificent ass is on display. Only for a moment, though, as he pulls on a pair of jeans. He’s so sexy.

 

“You want some breakfast?” He looks back, smiling.

 

“Yeah, sure. You want to cook?”

 

“I’m not completely clueless. I did eat just fine when you weren’t here.”

 

I decide to leave it there and not challenge him on cooking being “girly.”

 

A short time later I join him in the kitchen, my heart in my throat. I found an oversize sweatshirt of his in the closet and decided to wear it instead of my three-day-old sweater.

 

He looks me up and down, not saying a word before turning back to the stove.

 

“I hope you don’t mind. I just couldn’t bear the idea of putting that same sweater on again.”

 

A moment’s hesitation. “No, no, I get it. I don’t mind at all.”

 

Hmm. “Are you sure? I can take it off.”

 

He looks back to where I’ve sat at the kitchen table, a grin on his face. “You can definitely take it off if you want to. I wouldn’t say no.” I scowl, making him laugh before he turns back to the stove. “I was just thinking how cute you look in it.”

 

I smile, like a complete goon, from ear to ear. “Really?”

 

“Really. You should wear my clothes more often.”

 

I blush, wondering if he’s thinking along the same lines as I am. Wouldn’t that be something? A story we could tell our grandkids. How Grandpa rescued Grandma from a blizzard, and they fell in love.

 

Ugh. Again, so corny. What’s come over me?

 

“How do you like your eggs?”

 

“Oh, um, whatever’s easiest for you. Usually scrambled, but I like overeasy and sunny side, too.”

 

“You’re in luck. Scrambled eggs are my specialty.”

 

I watch as he cooks, not giving a damn about what’s on the stove. He’s still in just his jeans, looking more delicious than anything he could serve up. There’s something about the sight of a man in the kitchen, especially when he’s drop-dead gorgeous.

 

“There’s fresh coffee over here, by the way.”

 

I’m desperate for caffeine. I rush for the pot. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

 

“Please. I think you’ve done enough this weekend.” He chuckles softly.

 

“I cooked a little bit. Big deal. It’s not enough.”

 

“Enough?”

 

“To make up for what you did for me. It’ll never be enough.”

 

He turns, seeing the dead-serious look on my face. “Hey.” He comes over to me. “I don’t need a payback, so don’t worry about it. I was in the right place at the right time. I’m just glad I was able to reach you before it was too late.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. I’m mesmerized. “I’m glad I got to know you.”

 

I feel like my heart is exploding into a million rays of light. “Me, too.”

 

He leans in, just about to kiss me, before his eyes fly open. “The food. I’ll take a raincheck.”

 

I laugh, then tingle all over at the thought of a raincheck. I wonder what that’s going to involve.

 

Breakfast is delicious. Eggs, bacon, toast. Simple but filling.

 

“You know, not everybody can get eggs right. Or bacon, for that matter. You have good instincts.”

 

“What’s so hard about bacon?”

 

“It’s easy to burn. There’s nothing so sad as burned bacon.” We toast to this, touching our coffee cups in mid-air. “Seriously, though. I think you’d make a good cook.”

 

He laughs. “Cooking was never something the people in my life considered something a boy should be doing.” He winces, and laughs again.

 

“They were stupid. No offense.”

 

“None taken, because they were.” He shakes his head, remembering. “If they knew I was a landscaper now, they’d laugh their asses off at me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I plant flowers and bushes. Trees. I mow grass and lay down mulch. It’s tough fucking work.”

 

“I can imagine!”

 

“But to them I’d be…a sissy. To put it nicely. They wouldn’t use the word ‘sissy.’”

 

“I get it.”

 

“I always loved it, though, when I was a kid. Being outside, watching things grow. It was like magic. Sometimes I’d ride my bike through the nicer neighborhoods just to see the way people with money would have their landscaping done. It sounds stupid.” He ducks his head.

 

“Not stupid at all. Really.”

 

“I guess, growing up the way I did, there wasn’t much… I don’t know…beauty. The closest my mom came to a garden was plastic flowers and a pink flamingo. Otherwise, I lived in a trailer on cinder blocks.”

 

I nod sympathetically, getting a much clearer picture of the man in front of me. No wonder he has so many walls built up in front of him. I wish I could give him a hug, the poor thing. “For the record, a man who cooks is just about the sexiest thing in the world.”

 

“I’ve heard that. It’s really true?”

 

I stand, sliding my panties to the floor. Then I take his hand, placing it between my legs. His eyes widen before his fingers begin moving through my wetness.

 

“You tell me,” I breathe.