She threw the covers off, pulled herself out of bed, and padded through one of the archways to Stellan’s luxurious master bath (he had chandeliers and columns in there too, not to mention a flat-screen mounted on the wall).
She stopped when, on the vanity by the sink she used, she saw the glossy cream box with the frosty-blue satin bow. This was sitting on top of what looked like the white linen shirt Stellan had worn at the pool party last weekend. And both of these were beside a full mug of coffee that was resting on one of those individual coffee warmers.
She moved toward it and saw there was a thick-stock notecard sitting on it embossed at the top with STELLAN PETTER LANGE.
Of course the man didn’t just dash something off on a scratch pad.
Always class with Stellan.
She smiled before she even picked the thing up.
Written on it, it said,
S–
Come down wearing this, darling.
I want you adorably fuckable.
–S
Well, that explained him not being in the bedroom.
Sixx felt butterflies hit her stomach.
Actual butterflies.
And they got worse when she opened the box to find an extraordinary set of pale yellow lace underwear. The lace was divine. The demi-cup bra exquisite. The panties a wide strip of lace across the hips with just a narrow gusset between the legs. And they were the perfect size.
She figured “adorably fuckable” meant he wanted her prettied up (in the way Sixx could get prettied up) and good to go for the day. Therefore she took a shower, gave herself a close shave, lotioned up, did a light makeup thing and a full hair thing, all of this while sipping coffee.
She donned the underwear that even felt like sheer decadence, shrugged on the shirt, and took her empty coffee mug down with her.
She saw Stellan was out on the patio, back to the doors, eyes to the pool, cell to his ear.
The heat had finally hit, and Phoenix was experiencing upper 90s/low 100s days, but that wasn’t the reason Stellan was out there with his broad shoulders bare.
She saw his legs covered in a pair of the loose-fitting, knit, masculine lounge pants he wore when he was working a sub (that was, he wore them when he was wearing anything, it was either those pants, or when play had reached a certain point, nude).
She knew what those pants meant considering he slept naked.
A tremor shivering up her inner thighs, she set down her mug in the kitchen and moved out the door to the patio.
The instant he heard her approach, he turned and looked over his shoulder at her.
And the instant he did that, it took everything she had not to stop dead in order to put everything she had into memorizing that moment right there.
Mostly Stellan wearing her favorite look: at his home, relaxed, in his element, surrounded by all he’d wrought, his hair not styled to project the man he was out in the world, his suits in his closet.
No, right there with his dark hair falling on his forehead, messy from sleep and making love before he did that, face relaxed, dark blue eyes soft and content and admiring and pointed toward her. He could give her diamonds and pearls and entire islands, but the best gift she’d ever receive was him sitting there, looking at her just … like … that.
He tipped up his chin indicating he wanted her to come to him.
But she was already going to him. She would have gone to him if getting there meant going to the ends of the earth and she had to do it slaying dragons and battling trolls.
And when she arrived at his side, he kept his head back, his eyes falling to her mouth, telling her what else he wanted.
But Sixx would have dropped to touch her lips to his even if she knew, prior to doing it, it would be the last thing she’d do in her life.
This is love, she thought, feeling his soft lips light against hers and adoring the feel. I’m in love.
When she moved an inch away, thrown by her realization, she stopped only because he’d caught her at the back of the neck.
Up close, Sixx looked in his eyes and realized that was the last thing she wanted to see before she took her final breath.
Stellan looking at her, completely content because he woke up in a home where she would wake up and find him.
“One moment,” he said into his cell, then immediately to her, not covering up his phone, not giving that first shit whoever was on the other line heard him, he said, “Good morning, darling.”
“Morning, baby,” she whispered, her voice throaty with the realization that had just dawned, but as thick as her throat was, for once in her life, her mind was crystal clear.
He pulled her to him to brush her lips against his again before he let her go and indicated with a tip of his head the chair he wanted her to sit in.
Sixx moved there, lowering herself in the patio chair Stellan had angled facing his.
After she sat, he bent forward and did it deep, sweeping her feet up into his lap by hooking his forearm around her ankles. He then sat back, resumed his conversation, and did it one-handed massaging her foot.
“I’d wanted it taken care of yesterday, it wasn’t,” he said into the phone. “And we’ll discuss how I feel about that on Monday. For now, you’ve taken enough of my weekend. My woman is awake. We’re done talking.” He paused, listened briefly, then said, “Monday.”
And that was obviously that because he pressed his thumb on the screen, tossed the phone on the table, and looked at Sixx.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
She nodded.
He engaged his other hand to massage her foot.
Heaven.
My woman is awake. We’re done talking.
Lord, she’d fallen in love with him. Not from-afar love that was mostly deep, abiding fascination but in the end really just a crush.
No, it was real-life, sitting opposite him with your feet in his lap wearing beautiful underwear he bought you after a night where you had an ugly emotional row while discussing viciously painful parts of your past but you ended it cuddling, then making love, then sleeping in each other’s arms, only to wake up to a foot rub … love.
“You all right?” he asked.
Was she?
Was she all right?
Was she like he’d looked when he’d peered over his shoulder at her? Content. Relaxed. Quietly … happy.
Or was that crystal clear of her mind a tactic to hold at bay other thoughts that wanted to crowd in? Terrifying thoughts. Thoughts about how perfect this moment was, how it and the last week and even how Stellan had ended their discussion last night had been everything any girl could ever want—but she was not that girl who got what she wanted.
She was that girl who’d been born to nothing and worked her way to having a bunch of leather and designer gear, one (and a half, as she counted Carlo) true friends, and a lot more of nothing.
“Simone?” he prompted.
“I’m good,” she replied, swallowing instead of clearing her throat when it came out husky.
He gave her a gorgeous, understanding smile, and she wondered what he understood (and was worried about it) as he moved his hands to her other foot.
“Not after last night,” he declared.
“Pardon?” she asked, for her part, totally not understanding.
“We’re not playing,” he explained. “Not after last night. We need some time to just be. Be with each other. Clear our heads. Let that go. If you like, we can have a session tomorrow. But now … no.”
Yes.
God yes.
She was in love with him.
She needed to clear her head.
She’d never really done it, but it sounded heavenly to just … be.
That said, what was with the underwear?
“So the yellow lace is a non-starter?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I did buy it for you to wear while I played with you, but now it’s just a gift. Though I put it out as I did to see how you’d respond. And considering it was a sort of test, I’m pleased to note that you passed.”
Deciding for now just to live in the moment, this glorious moment, Sixx kicked playfully at his hands, doing it so he wouldn’t stop because she never wanted him to stop as she shot him a fake-annoyed look that totally didn’t work since she was also grinning.
He grinned back, dug his fingers in at the arch of her foot, she bit back a moan, and he asked, “Do you want more coffee?”