Brutally Beautiful(33)

Fran cautiously shifted his body in front of mine and tenderly lifted my chin with his finger, attempting to make me look him in the eyes. “What do you think of being in an exclusive relationship with me?” His eyes scanned my face, searching for an answer he wanted to hear.

“I just ended a long monogamous relationship, Francis. I explained that to you. I don’t want to be part of another relationship right now.”

He leaned closer to me, his breath hot on my face, “I would like getting to know you though.”

My stomach churned as he brought his other hand to my cheek and dipped his head closer to me, kissing me slowly and softly with closed lips. I opened my lips against his and he pulled in a sharp breath. I wanted desperately to feel a spark, or a flutter of something, but all I thought about was how different his lips were from Kade, or how Fran kissed just as softly, robotically and clinically as the man, I had once been married to did.

I pushed the thoughts out of my head. I wasn’t Samantha Matthews any longer.

Fran buried his face in my hair and pulled me in tighter for a hug. “Okay, I will take this as slowly as you need me too.” Raising his head, he slowly ran his nose along my cheek and kissed me on the forehead.

Breaking away from his embrace, I moved along the counter, grabbing my phone to find no new messages. My stomach ached a little, worrying about anyone in the path of Kade’s truck.

“Anyway, I came over early to help you clean, but I see that you stayed up all night and scrubbed this place raw,” he said, looking around in amazement.

I laughed. “It only took me an hour, Fran. I like cleanliness, what can I tell you? I have this thing for sterile environments.” I walked over to the coffeepot I used as a mug earlier and placed it in the sink, running soap and water over it. “Would you like some coffee?” I asked.

“I have a better idea,” he said running his hand down my arm. “Why don’t you go put something nicer on and I will take you to the quaintest street festival you’ve ever seen. Then, I want to take you to an early dinner and then to the best little book store on earth.” The man bounced a little on his heels, “Bree told me last night how you love reading.”

“A street festival? It’s the middle of winter. Isn’t it too cold to be outside at a festival?”

“Not for this one. It’s under enormous tents and has outdoor heat lamps that line the streets. You will love it, I promise. Artisans line the streets and sell their wares. There are antiques you could buy, and up-and-coming artists selling their paintings; it’s lovely.”

“Okay, but I need a huge cup of some sort of sugary caramel coffee to get me through the rest of this morning, maybe even more than one.”

“You do know how unhealthy caffeine is for your body, right? I’ve read that if you drink more than a cup a day that you can suffer from insomnia, upset stomach, jitters, and a rise in your blood pressure. It will lead to heart attacks, tooth decay, slower metabolism and has…”

“Okay. Thank you,” I said cutting him off. I walked into my room and tried to find something nice to wear for a day outside. “I guess coffee is my vice then,” I called from my bedroom. “I used to drink only one cup a day, but for the last few months, I find that I need to make up for the time I spent refraining from it.”

Dressing quickly in a pair of jeans, a form fitting turtleneck sweater and a pair of boots, I walked out to Fran still assaulting me with statistics of the nine rings of hell that you allow your body to go through when drinking coffee.

I practically shoved him out of my door; desperate for the coffee he was trying to forbid me from.