Annihilate Me by Christina Ross Page A

next to him and
said, “Come and sit with me.   Let’s
talk about the day.”
    I
went over and sat next to him.   We
talked about the penthouse on Fifth, and he told me about the party he had been
to earlier.   Eventually, my head was
resting on his stomach, my hand was just above his groin, and after a while, we
lapsed into silence.   He stroked my
hair, and I smoothed my hand over his velvety skin.   It was a comfortable silence.   It was the best kind of silence.   It was the sort of silence that
underscored the power of our bond and how unnecessary words could be between
two people.   Because even in this
silence, we were talking to each other.   Energy passed between us, and the evening took a different shape.   I listened to the steady rhythm of his
heart, I held him closer to me, and then I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

 
 
 
 
    CHAPTER TEN

 
    When
I woke the next morning, it was with a start, and for a moment, I was
discombobulated.  
    There
was a thin blanket over me.   My head
was resting on a pillow.   I wasn’t
sure where I was, but as I sat up, it came flooding back to me.   Last night, when I was resting my head
on Alex’s stomach, I must have dozed off.   Still, I had to wonder.   I
was a light sleeper and had been since I was a child.   It was a protective measure against my
father, who would storm into my room drunk at any hour of the night shouting at
me, punching me and threatening me with my life for no reason other than to
terrorize me.   How had Alex got up
without waking me?   Had I been that
tired?  
    Or was I just that comfortable with
him?
    I
looked around for him, and when I did, I saw a glass of orange juice on the
coffee table in front of me.   My
mouth was dry so I sipped it.   It
was tart and freshly squeezed.  
    Then,
from the kitchen, Alex spoke.   “Someone’s up.”
    “That
would be me,” I said.
    “Come
and have breakfast,” he said.   “It’s
still very early.   Not even six
yet.   We’ve got plenty of time
together before I have to jump into the shower and get ready for the day.”
    I
took my glass of juice and went into the kitchen, unprepared to find Alex
shirtless and in just a pair of pale blue boxer shorts.   The sight was disarming, not that I was
going to ask him to do anything about it.   He looked hot.   He was
sitting at the bar with the Times in front of him.   I went over to him, put my arms around
his broad shoulders, then dropped them around his tight waist, and held him
before I sat next to him.   I kissed
him on his stubbly cheek, then on his lips.
    “Coffee?”
he asked.
    “That
would be nice.”
    He
stood.   “You got it.”
    “How
long have you been up?” I asked, watching him walk away from me.   He had a deep cleft in his back, which I
thought was beyond sexy.   And then
there was his butt, which was about as perfect as they came.  
    And people talk about my ass.   They should see his.
    “Just
about an hour or so.”
    “Do
you always get up early?”
    “I
do, but I have a process.   I need
coffee, quiet, the paper, silence.   After the first cup or two, I’m ready to go.”
    “Are
you my twin?”
    “You’re
the same way?”
    “You
have no idea.”
    “Then
I’ll be quiet and make coffee.”
    I
put my elbows on the bar and put my chin in my hands as I watched him use a
coffee press.   Was that another
trick he learned from his childhood cook, Michelle?   Not many knew how to do it right, but I
did, and from watching him, it looked as if did he.   When he was finished, he added the exact
amount of cream and sugar that I liked.   He must have watched me prepare my own coffee two mornings ago when he
made eggs for me.  
    This man doesn’t miss a trick.
    The
coffee and its heady aroma were enough to clear my head.   For breakfast, we had chilled pineapple
chunks to start, which were delicious, then the lightest of scrambled eggs
served with a fresh croissant that was warm and buttered.