Chapter 9: Morning After

I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine, wearing a man's white dress shirt and nothing else.

Pale light came through the curtains, and the pillow beside me still held the dent of his head.

My body felt used in the best way, sore and loose and warm.

I lay there for a full minute grinning at the ceiling.

Then I smelled coffee.

Matthias stood at the stove in grey sweatpants and nothing else, flipping eggs with the focus of a man defusing a mine.

His back was a wide, dark-furred landscape with a long red scratch down the left shoulder blade.

I'd done that.

I leaned in the doorway and enjoyed the view for as long as I could stand it.

"You're staring," he said, without turning.

"You're half naked in a kitchen."

"It's my kitchen."

"It's a lovely kitchen."

He turned.

His eyes went to the shirt, to my bare legs, and back up, and the spatula stopped moving.

"That's mine," he said.

"It's mine now. Finders keepers."

"I wasn't complaining."

The eggs began to smoke.

"Matthias. The eggs."

"I know."

He switched off the burner without looking, crossed the kitchen in three strides and picked me up by the waist.

I yelped and wrapped my legs around him as he set me on the counter.

"We have to talk," I said, into his mouth.

"We will."

"Terms. Rules. The contract."

"After."

His hand slid up under the shirt, along my ribs, and I stopped caring about the contract.

He kissed me long and slow, then harder, and I pulled him between my knees by the waistband of his sweatpants.

He pushed the fabric down.

I took him in my hand, hot and heavy, and he groaned and rested his forehead on my shoulder.

"Fuck, Hanna."

"Yes."

He shifted my hips to the edge of the counter and slid into me in one smooth thrust.

The sound I made bounced off the tile.

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