Three Years Later…
I peek my head around the corner of the door to the spare bedroom Daisy has set up as a graphic design studio. Like the rest of the condo in downtown Chicago, the room is spacious with eastern facing windows that overlook the deep blue vastness of Lake Michigan. Undiluted light pours in every morning making it the perfect work space. The room is furnished with a sleek modern desk, a comfy couch, bookshelves, and two computers. One with an oversized monitor and a laptop Daisy can take with her to client appointments.
I was drafted by Chicago and it’s been our home for two and a half years. We both love the energy of the city. It’s the perfect place for us to begin our lives together. The graphic design opportunities have been amazing for Daisy. She worked for a big firm for two years before deciding to branch out on her own with a colleague.
“Dinner’s ready,” I say, not wanting to interrupt her. I know what she’s like when she’s focused on a project.
My gaze falls on her. Daisy’s sitting at the desk working on a design. I’m able to make out a few splashes of color on the monitor, but not much else. I’m more distracted by her than what she’s creating.
She looks sexy as fuck with her long hair pulled up in a messy bun at the top of her head and black rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. And let’s not even talk about the fact that she’s wearing tight fitting yoga pants and a tank top without a bra.
Yeah, I could seriously get used to this whole working-from-home thing. Especially if this is her daily attire.
I clear my throat and tamp down the rising excitement in my jeans.
It’s not easy. Not around this girl. Just thinking about her gives me a semi. You’d think that living together would have dampened some of my ardor. But it’s the complete opposite. The more I get, the more I want. I’m fucking addicted.
Clearing my throat, I add, “I made fish tacos with mango salsa.”
She turns with a distracted smile on her face. I can see all the ideas churning in her head and that’s sexy as hell, too.
Fine. What isn’t sexy about Daisy?
Not a damn thing.
“Mmmm, that sounds good. Thanks for making dinner, babe.” She puckers her lips and blows me a kiss.
It’s the offseason, so I’ve been dabbling with a few new recipes.
What can I say?
I’m a renaissance man.
Plus, now that we have this kick-ass kitchen, I enjoy puttering around, trying my hand at new healthy options. Daisy’s been working around the clock, trying to get her new business off the ground.
I’ll do whatever I can to support her. No questions asked.
Daisy closes out of her computer program, rises to her feet, and stretches her arms above her head. The movement makes her breasts thrust out.
I groan as my gaze runs over the length of her. “Damn, woman, what are you trying to do to me?”
A grin lights up her face as she blinks innocently. Then she stretches again, although there’s more of a sly look on her face when she does it this time.
Little tease.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she laughs.
I snort.
She knows exactly what she does to me.
Every damn time.
And I love it. Just like I love her.
Did you happen to check out the rock on her left hand? My advice is to not stare at it directly. It’s like the sun, it’ll burn the damn retinas right out of your head. You better believe I put a ring on her finger. Daisy Thompson is the best thing that ever happened to me. She’s the girl I didn’t think I could have, but never stopped wanting.
Now she’s mine.
And just like I told her three years ago, I’m hers.
No matter what happens in our lives, that will never change.
