“Morning, how are you feeling?” she asked when she spotted me on the couch.
“I’m good. Thank you for coming over last night.”
“Shut up, you know I’d drop everything for you. You’re my fucking soulmate.”
“Same. Are you hungry?” As much as I wanted Mr. Easton, I refused to choose him over my best friend in any situation.
“I could eat,” she answered, but she had an odd tone to her voice.
“What was that voice?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar, you used your squeaky voice. What is it?”
“Nothing. Cole asked if I wanted to have breakfast with him this morning, but I told him that you were my first priority.”
“I know I’m your priority, but you should go to breakfast with him. I’m going to take full advantage of my post-breakup diet. I’m going to shower and go back to sleep.”
“Are you sure?”
Mr. Easton’s order last night floated through my head and my thighs clenched remembering the command in his voice.
“Yes, go out with Cole. I will call you later.”
Jules stood up and stared at me, her eyes roaming over my face, ensuring I wasn’t lying to her. She nodded and kissed me on the top of the head. “Love you, bitch.”
“Love you more.”
Before the door had clicked shut, I was already texting Mr. Easton.
Once again, his response was immediate.
A thrill ripped through me as I ran to my bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for “breakfast.”
What the hell should I wear?
I tossed my closet open and decided I owned nothing sexy. Chewing on the side of my nail, I forced myself to calm down. This was just a rebound hookup, it wasn’t as if I needed to make a good impression. Mr. Easton was a sure thing.
Fuck it.
I texted Mr. Easton, my decision made.
My heart hammered and I had to wash my hands with cold water so they would stop sweating. I took deep breaths, letting them out slowly, not wanting to look like a hot mess when he walked in.
I heard Mr. Easton’s car pull into the driveway and my nervousness melted away, replaced with the confidence of a sex kitten.
Mr. Easton walked in, and I stood there completely naked except for my confidence.
Thank you, Pilates.
My hands were planted on my hips, a small smile of victory painted my lips.
He slammed the door, the lock engaging loud in the quiet room.
“Fuck,” he hissed out, running a hand through his hair.
“What took you so long?” I asked, soaking up the attention. Fuck, I was marinating in it.