Not Suitable for Work (Anti-Belle Book 1) by Skye McDonald

Author:Skye McDonald [McDonald, Skye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781733441209
Publisher: Anti-Belle Books
Published: 2019-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

17

I have a vague recollection of waking later, naked and shivering, to see Ben on his back on the floor, one arm over his eyes. I’m not sure it registered as shock that we’d both passed out because I was half awake at best. Getting him off the floor was no small feat—the man slept as hard as he fucked—but with some sharp tugs on his arm, he fell face-first into the covers beside me.

Daylight streamed from behind the blinds when I awoke the next morning. After a moment of confusion, my senses attuned to the sizzle and aroma of bacon. Dishes clattered gently. He cooks?

Once I was dressed, I found him at the stove, bent over a pan. I shuffled forward to peek under his arm. “I don’t remember having eggs and bacon in my fridge.”

“I took your keys.” He didn’t look up.

His concentration was adorable, so I leaned on the counter and watched him work. He scraped the pan, brows drawn together until the moment he shut off the heat.

I applauded. “A master chef.”

Only then did his expression lift. He shook his head and reached for the pepper. “My brother says that a man needs to know how to cook a meal for a woman, and that breakfast is key.” He smiled when I laughed. “It’s one of the few useful things he’s taught me.”

I grabbed plates and poured coffee. We took the food to my little kitchen table; with the first bite still in my mouth, I hummed. “Thank your brother for me,” I said around the fork. “This is excellent.”

The excited look that flashed over his face was impossibly perfect, but he smoothed it fast. “I’m glad you like it.”

“What do you usually do on Sundays?”

“Six hours of church.”

The fork stopped halfway to my mouth.

Ben chuckled. “Kidding. Usually I run when the weather’s good. Want to go with me in a bit?”

“Sounds great.”

When the plates were empty and I’d poured our second cups of coffee, he chewed on his lip and gave me a strange look. I cocked my head, and he reached for his phone. He navigated for a moment, then laid it by my elbow and studied his mug.

My stomach clenched when I picked it up and saw an app of his medical report open on the screen. Last blood test: three weeks ago. Every condition or disease I could think of: NEGATIVE.

I pushed the phone away and rested my forehead on my hand. Last night flashed back, the adrenaline of the moment, the stupidity of my decision after all the worry and monthly blood tests after I learned of Derrick’s multiple reckless indiscretions.

“You didn’t have to show me,” I whispered, still hidden. My heart pounded with gratitude.

“Yes, I did. I should’ve shown you last night, but I blanked. You trusted me. You deserve to know it was right.”

It was right. Rocked with the power of those simple words, I pressed both palms to my cheeks. After a long moment, he cleared his throat. “He cheated on you, didn’t he?”

“That’s part of it.

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