Dirty Kisses and Conflicting Wishes (Kiss me Book 1) by Danielle Jacks

Author:Danielle Jacks [Jacks, Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

Damien

SATURDAY

Sleeping on the sofa after upgrading to a bed has given me a new kind of ache. I didn’t think Zoe would react so badly to the idea of marrying me. I knew she might need time to consider my offer, but she’s completely shut me out. For two days, she’s hardly said a word. I’m going to change that today, starting with breakfast in bed. Whatever she decides to do about my proposal, I’ll get over it. The idea of her bouncing on my cock for the next year or so sounds fucking brilliant, I won’t lie. We’re not in love, and she knows the score, so I’m not doing anything wrong.

If she was just some other girl I’d slept with, I wouldn’t care what she thought about me, but she’s not. She means more to me than that. She’s Zoe. The girl I grew up with. The girl I used to tease and enjoy chasing. She’s all woman now, and I’ve had a constant hard-on since I got up. I loved watching her come undone underneath me, and I’m not ready to give that up. She’s the first woman in a long time I’ve wanted a repeat performance with. I have to make it right between us, even if it’s only to repair our relationship.

The toast pops up, and my fingers burn on the crust as I chuck the toast onto a plate. I wish I knew how Zoe likes her bread cooked, but it’s something I’m willing to learn. I add a knob of butter and a pot of jam to the tray. I err on the side of caution with the coffee. I don’t want to be wearing it if she’s still sulking. I make it in a tumbler with a lid, just in case.

I don’t want to make Zoe hate me any more than she already does, but the thought of marrying her satisfies a side of me like nothing else ever could. I don’t want it to end with bitter feelings between us, but changing her name to Mrs Zoe Chuke is a selfish desire I’m willing to pursue, even if it’s wrong. I stare at the breakfast tray, hoping it’s enough. I could add a flower from the garden or some other romantic gesture, but that’s not who I am. It’s also not what I’m offering. I pull my shirt over my head, exposing my bare chest. It’s a dirty move, but if she’s going to be my wife, she needs to know the kind of relationship I want.

I don’t knock. Instead, I balance the tray on one arm and push open the door. Zoe’s already dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, lying on the bed and reading a book.

“Morning,” I say, placing the breakfast on the chest of drawers.

She looks up from the page. “Don’t any of your family ever knock?”

“Today I want you to focus on me. We’ll deal with everyone else later.”

She goes back to reading her book. “Thanks for the food, but I’m not ready to talk.

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