Page 36 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
I am focused, thorough and I keep my phone face-up on the desk the entire time.
It chimes at six forty-eight.
Home safe. Informing you as requested :)
I'm smiling at my phone like an idiot.
And I can’t help myself from texting back, even though I shouldn’t.
13
SIENNA
The sheets are tangled in my legs and still warm from a restless night. My body is heavy with the specific reluctance of early morning. very limb resistant, the room still dim. Grey light at the curtains, not quite day yet.
I can’t resist, I reach for my bed side table and grab my phone to read Carter’s reply to my message, letting him know that I was home. Again.
Good girl.
My face goes warm. And I can feel the warmth spread to all my body. A buzzing feeling of excitement, like an electric current. I pull the sheet up to my chin like that helps anything and read it again.
I mean, Carter is hot. Not quite silver fox hot yet, but getting there. Tall, with muscles that his suits can’t hide. Salt and pepper threading through his hair at the temples. Chocolate-brown eyes with fine lines at the corners that tell you hedoeslaugh at some point although every evidence points against it.
But it's not just the way he looks. It’s the way he carries himself.
It's the way he commands a space. The powerful stillness of him. The way it seems to steady me at the same time that rattles me.
Good girl.
There’s that electric current again, zapping through my body and settling in a more specific space. My hand drifts slowly under the sheet, between my breasts, going lower—
The phone chimes.
I jolt so hard that I knock my elbow on the headboard. My face, already warm, gets warmer. I am alone in my bedroom. There is no witness to anything. I hold the ceiling with my eyes for two full seconds before I look at the screen and read the message:
Do you prefer Italian or French food? This is Adrian by the way, you might want to save my number under handsome.
I read it twice and smile at the screen.
Adrian is not at all what I expected. I can sense that he has more underneath the version he presents to the world.
The kiss we shared was special. But I didn’t dare to let myself think too much about it. I attributed it to the emotional rollercoaster that night was and the unexpected vulnerable moment he shared.
But here he is. Reaching out with the most unexpected question.
I type:I like both. But Italian a little more. Why?
The dots appear immediately. Then stop. Then start again. Stop.
The message arrives.
Because I'm taking you out to dinner Friday night and I wanted to know where to make the reservations.
My smile at the phone screen goes wider.
I type:Are you now? Funny, I didn’t remember you asking me out.
The dots dance again. The answer comes faster this time.
