"But does it interfere with your routine? Am I in the way? Am I distracting?" I wondered what he had done with his days off in the past. Besides sit around and check up on me all the time.
His attention returned to his iPad. "I've thought about it enough for it not to seem too jarring," he said dismissively.
I set my spoon on the counter in front of me and leaned forward. "You’ve thought about it?"
He put his iPad down. "Yes, Sabrina. You aren't the only one who's had fantasies."
I bit my lip as I grinned. He really did have the romance thing down.
"Granted," he swept his eyes over my body, currently clothed in his tuxedo shirt from the night before, "in my fantasies, you were usually naked."
I shrugged with one shoulder. "Real life, man."
He was already coming around the bar for me. I shrieked with my hands held out to stop him from whatever wicked torments I was sure that he meant to implement.
"You've already attacked me once this morning."
"I’ve heard no mention of your safe word." He rested his hands on the arms of the kitchen barstool, caging me in, and bent down to kiss my neck. He normally had a bit of scruff on his face, but he hadn't yet shaved so his jaw was extra bristly, tickling my sensitive skin.
"No, no," I howled, laughing. ”You can't! I promised to call Audrey. You have to stop!"
He lifted his head. "Okay." He kissed me, long enough and deep enough to get my lower belly fluttering, then he pulled away. "I need to work out anyway. Want to join me?"
I pretended to think about it for all of three seconds. "No thanks. I have that phone call to make and everything." Besides, hadn't we gotten enough of a workout last night?
A thought occurred to me. “You haven’t bugged my phone, have you?”
"I have not bugged your phone. I told you, you know everything." He swatted the side of my bare thigh.
“Just checking,” I teased. “But to be sure—there aren’t cameras in your house are there?”
His expression, annoyed as it was, was also hot and searing.
"Make yourself at home, Sabrina,” he said, refusing to address my last comment. “Join me in the shower later."
"I'll see if I can fit you into my schedule.”
He threw me a warning glare over his shoulder. That, and the magnificent view of his backside—his torso naked, his ass covered with sweats hanging low on his hips—sent delicious tingles down my body.
I sighed, my gaze still fixed on the kitchen doorway long after he'd left. I was sore and exhausted, and I couldn't remember the last time I’d been this happy.
I waited until I heard the treadmill start in the other room before going upstairs to get my cell phone. I’d brought a small overnight bag with me and had included my charger so my battery was full. Lazily, I stretched out on Donovan's bed and perused social media, something I rarely indulged in. Elizabeth had posted a few candid pictures from the wedding and I wondered if they were more crumbs for doubting family members or if they’d been real moments she’d wanted to capture.
Maybe Weston would never change. Maybe he was a wild playboy who could never settle in one bed. But seeing him with Elizabeth made me want to believe it was possible.
Or maybe it was being with Donovan that made me want to believe that love was possible for Weston. Because I wanted it to be possible for me.
Did I love Donovan?
That was a question better left for the experts.
I closed out of the social apps on my phone, found Audrey's name in the favorites list, and clicked to call.
"Tell me everything," she answered.
I laughed. "Hello to you too." To be fair, I hadn't talked to her since I’d parted with her the week before, and a lot had happened in the last seven days. Not that I was going to tell her every detail. But I planned to tell her the major points.
"I wouldn't have to rush to the meat of the subject if you maybe called me a little more often," she berated.
"I know," I admitted guiltily. "It's been a busy week. But I do owe you a rundown." I stood up. This was going to require pacing.
I roamed the top floor of Donovan's apartment, giving Audrey the highlights of the last week. I didn't tell her that I had put him on trial, but I did tell her that we had gone through everything from the past, and that he had explained himself satisfactorily. That may have been somewhat simplifying the situation, but it was our relationship. Our business. Not anyone else's.
Then I told her we were making a go of it; that we were trying out something real.
"Has he said it yet? Has he told you he loves you?" Audrey's tone was as bright and eager as when she'd been ten years old asking me about Santa Claus.
"He has." I sounded especially young, too. Who was I? I wandered into the study. "Yesterday, he did. I didn't say it back. Maybe I should've said it back. Should I have said it back?"
"Did you want to say it back?"
"I wanted to say it back. I just wanted to make sure I meant it first."
"And you're not sure?"
I pressed my cheek against the cool window frame and switched the phone to my other ear. "I'm afraid that what I feel isn't worthy of what he feels for me.”
It was the first time I'd said it out loud, the first time I’d formed it into words and I had to pause for a second to make sure it was what I meant.
It was.
"What have I done for him? Spread my legs? Sucked him off? Let him get a little rough? I can't be the only woman willing…" I trailed off, not wanting to make the conversation uncomfortable for my sister by discussing specifics of the kink I liked.
"He's not in love with you because you're a slut.”
"I'm not a slut!"
I could practically hear her roll her eyes. "That's what I'm saying. You're not a slut, so that’s not why he loves you. And people don't love other people because of what they do for them, anyway. If they say they do, they’re wrong. That's not real love."
"Then why is he in love with me?"
"Oh, sister dear. You are wise and smart beyond your years, and yet you are such a fool."
It was my turn to roll my eyes. My sister's fountain of drama floweth over.
"The heart wants what the heart wants," she went on. "It is not ours to ask why. As for you and how you feel—there is no point in comparing your emotions with his actions. He did what he did because he wanted to do it, not just because he loved you. He didn't do anything that he wasn't completely comfortable doing whether you knew he loved you or not. He certainly wasn't waiting for you to give him something in return or he would've told you about his secret actions long ago. My guess is that he's out of his mind happy just having you wake up in his arms right now."
"Did you come up with that on your own or did you steal it from Hallmark?" If I didn’t mock her, there was a chance I’d tear up.
Besides, mocking her was my job as her sister.
But maybe she had a point. Donovan's comments from earlier replayed in my mind. He had fantasies about me being in his life. He’d said so himself. Maybe he really was just happy to have me here.