Page 134 of Crash Course
Then she kissed him. Full on, tongues and all, absolutely swallowed him. Not that he minded. Never.
He hoped they’d spend every night this way. Talking, eating, screwing.
Then doing it all again the next day.
Yep, yep, yep.
That would be a fantastic life.
Well before dawn,Cilla’s eyes popped open, her mind a beehive of activity over her growing to-do list. Not just clients, but an office move and a war with her father. In the last two weeks, her world had gone completely sideways.
She’d roll with it. No other choice. Dad wanted her out. Fine. She’d get out faster than he could sign his name to another one of those lawsuits that hid the poison Randolph Industries pumped into the environment.
How could he have done this? Just sat by while his company risked people’s lives?
Was he that much of a monster?
Apparently so.
She couldn’t spend too much time dwelling on it. What’s done was done and she needed to move on. Figure out where her relationship with her father could go. If anywhere.
Beside her, in the darkness, Cruz snored softly.
Slowly, she reached for her phone on the bedside table. As soon as she picked it up, the screen illuminated: 5:36. At least the daily barrage of texts hadn't started yet.
Concerned over waking Cruz, she glanced back at him. He'd thrown one hand over his chest and it rose and fell with each breath. She shifted her gaze to his relaxed cheeks and lips and smooth forehead that clearly, in sleep, found peace. Gone was that tough-guy hardness she’d seen the night before when he’d basically told Dad to fuck off.
She liked the tough guy, but she might love this relaxed, peaceful Cruz. Or maybe she loved both sides of him. His ability to be gentle while taking control when the occasion warranted.
A lovely reprieve since she didn’t have to be in charge all the time. Particularly with managing her father.
She was simply . . . worn out. Exhausted from the mental bedlam Dad constantly created.
Throw in heartbreak to complete the emotional gutting.
Forget him.She had to. Had to put his harsh words, aimed at his own daughter, out of her mind.
Setting her phone down again, she lay back and peered at Cruz, lost in unconsciousness that she wished for.
When was the last good night’s sleep she’d had? A while. Months. Maybe years.
Afraid to move, she studied him, the one who’d been dropped into her life at the exact time she needed him.
The universe at work? She’d never bought into all that mumbo jumbo, preferring to base her opinions on facts, but this time? Might have to buy in.
She might also have to face the fact that time spent with Cruz destroyed her routine. On a normal day, her alarm would blare at 6:30, dragging her from what some might call sleep. She’d call it a battle between consciousness and not.
Being fairly regimented, the last couple weeks notwithstanding, she thrived on her morning routine. Up at 6:30, showered and walking out the door at 7:40, arriving at the office at 8:00 sharp.
Layla often teased her about knowing what time it was based on Cilla’s arrival.
Today would be different. Since she was awake, she might as well get going.
She eased to the edge of the bed and sat up. Given Cruz’s mass, an upgrade to a king might be in order. Assuming this whole thing worked out.
Which, yes, she apparently wanted since she hadn’t ever considered a bigger bed for any other man who'd been in her life.
She glanced back at Cruz, realized this, too, was out of her routine. A man in her bed on a work morning?
