Not Second Best (Drawn to the Rhythm Book 5) by Christa Maurice

Author:Christa Maurice [Maurice, Christa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyrical Shine
Published: 2016-06-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Brett rolled over and groped for her. Nothing. He opened one eye. Too early. Last night they had been all over this house, and he had the rug burns to prove it. She’d allowed him to stay the night, and he hadn’t stupidly left, which was a major victory. They’d lain in bed like a fucking married couple watching TV, which was on a timer and shut off on him about midnight. Didn’t matter. He’d just been using the glow to watch Tessa sleep. When the TV went off, he’d curled up around her. Normally, he didn’t fall asleep before four and woke up half a dozen times before he gave up and got out of bed at noon. Last night he’d slept straight through from the time he’d cuddled her close until she’d dropped something in the bathroom and swore.

“Tessa?” he called.

“Go back to sleep,” she said.

He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom where she was putting on makeup. She was wearing a tan skirt and a yellow top that made her hot and cool and completely in control at the same time. “Mornin’ baby.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“G’morning.” She kissed his cheek and turned back to applying mascara.

“This is nice.”

“What’s nice?” She made that weird face women make when they’re putting on mascara, and on her, it didn’t look stupid.

“Waking up together.” He nuzzled her neck. She still smelled faintly of sex and sweat.

“It would be better if I wasn’t running late.”

That had to be good, didn’t it? She hadn’t wanted to get out of bed with him. “You want me to get you some breakfast? I can cook.”

“I don’t. There’s nothing to cook. I’ll just run through Starbucks and grab coffee.” She screwed the mascara wand back into its bottle and tossed it into a basket beside the mirror.

Brett teased his fingers under the hem of her skirt. “How late are you?”

“Too late for that.”

“So, be late.” He kissed the curve of her jaw right where it ran under her earlobe.

“No.” She slipped away from him.

“I’ll take a rain check for tonight then.” He followed her to the bedroom and watched her step into a pair of boring brown pumps. She worked boring brown pumps better than most chicks worked stilettos.

“I can’t tonight. I have plans.”

“All night?”

“Until late.” Picking up a jacket that matched her skirt, she slipped it on. “Lock up when you leave.”

Something ugly and hard formed in his stomach. “Well, what about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to call you.” At the top of the stairs, she scooped up a briefcase and her purse and kissed his cheek. “Don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”

“Yeah,” he said to the closing door. It was like being patted on the head.

His shirt was on the dining room floor, and his jeans were still in the hall with his underwear. She had a nice house. Comfortable, except for the living room and dining room she never used. The bathroom

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