Underestimated Part 36

I didn't know how I knew, but somehow I knew that I liked to cook.

"I've got this. Mr. Kelley said to tell you that you could go for the night."

"He said that I was only to leave if he himself told me to go," she countered, afraid of losing her job.

"I would kind of like to have Mr. Kelley to myself tonight," I smiled. "I want to cook for him myself. I promise you won't be in any trouble."

She smiled, knowing why I wanted my husband alone. "I see. Well, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of romance," she stated, drying her hands on a towel before leaving for the day.

I got right to work with my salad. I almost bought stuff to make spaghetti, but for some reason, I knew that Drew hated spaghetti. I didn't know how I knew that, but I did or at least I thought so anyway, maybe I would ask him.

It was almost six o'clock. I was starting to wonder if Drew and Derik were going to stay in his office all night. My Swiss steak had been simmering for over an hour, not that it would hurt anything. They were actually better the longer they simmered. It was the mashed potatoes warming in the oven that I was concerned about.

Derik walked into the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He twisted the cap and scanned my body with his eyes. I self-consciously pulled down on my cami.

"You're treading on thin ice," he boldly stated.

I didn't have time to respond when Drew was right there.

"Derik," he reprimanded.

Derik toasted his bottle of water toward me and left. "I'll see you in the morning."

"What are you doing?" Drew asked.

"Cooking. What did he mean by that Drew," I asked.

"Don't worry about it, Morgan. Just ignore him.

Why are you cooking? Where is Marta?"

"I sent her home. I like to cook. Don't I," I decided to ask. "Did I cook for us before?" I wondered out loud.

"Yeah, sometimes. Marta left?" he asked. I could tell he didn't like it.

"I told her to, Drew. She didn't want to go because she said she was told not to leave unless you told her to. I just wanted us to have the house to ourselves for once. It seems like there is always someone here."

Drew walked closer to me. "There is. This house is huge. Did you forget that too? Where are your shoes?"

I was still feeling extremely apprehensive about the overheard conversation. I wanted to lean into him and make him touch me, but I didn't. I couldn't quite read his mood, and I was afraid to.

"I know how big the house is, my shoes are upstairs, and I don't like people always around here. Why can't I do the cooking?"

"You don't belong in the kitchen. I'm going to shower," he said, turning to leave.

"Drew."

He turned without speaking. "Hurry, I'm going to set the table."

He smiled. Yes...he smiled. It might have been a small victory, but at least it was something.

My jaw dropped when I watched Drew stroll into the dining room. He was wearing jeans with a knit shirt that had three b.u.t.tons at the top, all unb.u.t.toned. I had never seen him in anything but suits. Well, not that I remembered anyway. He was hot. s.e.x appeal was dripping off of him, causing me to feel like I might drip a little too.

"Earth to, Morgan," he said.

I shook my head trying to come out of the trance.

"Sorry, you just, never mind," I said. There was no way that I could say anything without it sounding ridiculous.

"What?" he asked, taking the head of the table with a smirk.

"Do you hate spaghetti?" I asked.

You idiot. You should have just commented on the jeans.

"What?" he laughed.

"I was just wondering. When I was trying to decide what to cook, I thought about making spaghetti, but for some reason I knew, well I thought, you didn't like it."

"You remembered right. I do hate spaghetti."

Drew praised my cooking, but then we ate in silence. I don't think either of us knew what to talk about. I was fighting with what I had overheard, and trying not to be afraid of him. I could tell that he was fighting something too. I had a good hunch that it was his new found attraction to me. I was sure that we hadn't had that before. I also had a pretty good feeling that I was a weak, pathetic, sad human being when I was there before. Before I ran away to G.o.d only knew where.

"I have to leave tomorrow for a few days," Drew finally said, breaking the stillness between us.

"Where are you going?" I asked, and I thought I caught a hint of irritation for asking, but he quickly replaced it.

"Montreal, I have a very lucrative prospect there that could turn into a major purchase."

"Is Derik going?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"What if he comes here while you are gone? I don't trust him."

"He won't come here. I promise."

"But what if he does? How would you know?"

"I would know. Don't worry about Derik. He won't come here."

"Take me with you," I threw out. I didn't know why. I didn't even know that I was thinking it.

He snickered. "You can't fly yet. Remember? Dr.

Tharp doesn't want you in the higher alt.i.tude for six months."

"Let's clean up," I said, looking away from him. I felt sad. I didn't want him to leave me, and I was terrified of Derik even though I was sure that Drew was telling me that he would know if he was there because he had cameras in every room of this house. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with me? I was sure that when I overhead Derik saying that they should stick to the plan and get rid of me that he was talking about killing me. Why? I didn't know.

That was why I had to continue to get inside of Drew's head. I was just having a difficult time controlling my feelings for him.

"Clean up? You're joking," Drew said in a disbelieving tone.

"Why? Because you don't belong in the kitchen either?"

"Exactly, let's leave it for Marta."

"You get off of that chair and help me clear this table. We are not leaving it for Marta," I demanded. He listened. He made some sort of disapproving growling noise, but he got up and started carrying dishes to the kitchen. I smiled to myself.

Steady now, Morgan. Reel'em in slowly.

I rinsed and handed the dishes for Drew to deposit into the dishwasher. I wiped off the counter once we were done and turned to him staring as I dried my hands.

"I like you in jeans," I said.

"You do?" he asked with a flirty grin.

"Yeah, I think you're s.e.xy as h.e.l.l in jeans."

He smiled a s.e.xy smile and took a step toward me.

My heart fluttered at his closeness, my hands became clammy, and the emotional desirability was almost unbearable. I grasped his shirt in my hand and leaned into him. He fisted my hair and pulled my head back, forcing me to look at him as he hungrily took my mouth with his.

Whoa v.a.g.i.n.a.

I turned my head, beckoning him to take my neck.

He did and ran his hand up my ribs and back. I thought I was going to faint. I needed to be lying down in a bed with my legs wrapped around his waist.

Before I knew what was happening I was naked, standing in the kitchen while his hands explored every part of my body except the one part that was begging for him to touch. He avoided that area as his hands discovered my body. It was a little strange, almost like he had never touched me before and he was trying to entrench my body in his mind.

Drew fiercely turned me and forced me onto the bar. It scared me. He had an aggressive demeanor going on that I wasn't sure about. I quickly hid my fear and stopped him. I held his hands so that he couldn't move them on me anymore. He looked up to me.

"Easy, Drew," I whispered, and just like magic he went from hostile to gentle.

I never even asked. He spread me open in front of him on the bar and ran his tongue up my wet p.u.s.s.y. I dropped my head and moaned. I think he liked tasting me.

We never got the chance to try out the new toys, and once I was yelling out, and I mean yelling, he pulled me up and down his body. He took me on the kitchen floor, and it was the most glorious love making I had ever had in my life, not that I could really remember any other ones, but still.

"Was our s.e.x life always this good?" I asked, running my nails down his back.

He rose up and looked down at me with a remorseful look. I didn't understand it. I ran my fingers gently over his bottom lip.

"No. Morgan. It wasn't always like this," he softly spoke.

"How was it?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

I didn't get one. He pulled out of me and lifted me to my feet.

"It doesn't matter," he demanded. He was distant.

He let go of my hand and gathered his clothing, leaving me staring after him, alone in the kitchen.

Well. Okay then.

I didn't want him to leave me. I didn't want to go to the room upstairs that left me feeling, feeling, I wasn't sure what it was. I just got a bad sensation in that room, and I hated it. I wanted to go for a walk with him or maybe watch some television with him, and fall asleep in his arms. That wasn't going to happen, and he had shut me out when he shut his bedroom door behind him.

It was still pretty early, not even nine thirty yet. I ran a tub of water and sank into it, trying to decipher the thoughts running through my mind. I knew I was being watched. I sensed it. I could see Drew sitting on his bed with his laptop staring at me. I didn't care. I felt hurt, rejected and alone.

I didn't put on one of the s.e.xy nighties or stringy panties. I pulled on a comfortable t-shirt and a pair of plain cotton panties. I crawled into bed and was surprised at how tired I felt, emotionally drained, more like it. I rolled over to my side and pulled my hair out, sprawling it behind me on my pillow. I was emotionally drained and fell asleep in no time.

I was on a beach. It was cold, and I was dressed in jeans and a hoodie. I was laughing. I was with friends, and we were playing football. Somebody grabbed me around the waist and playfully tackled me to the sand. I loved him.

I felt it. I tried to see his face, but I never could. He kissed me and told me that he loved me. I squirmed away from him and yelled to the strawberry blonde girl to throw me the ball. I knew her. She was my friend. I woke straight up out of bed when I saw Drew there too. He hit me, and dragged me away from my friends and the man that I loved.

I was crying and breathing heavy when Drew was once again right there. He was watching me sleep, something that I was sure he did every night. I once again clung to him, but something was different. He did feel safe as he stroked my hair and calmed me down.

"Come on, come with me," he finally said, taking my hand.

"Come with you where, Drew?"

"To my bed, maybe it will help with the nightmares."

Drew never asked what it was about. I think he was afraid of me remember something that he didn't want me to remember.

He walked in before me and quickly closed his laptop, not wanting me to see the image of my bed, I was sure. He lifted the covers, and I crawled into his bed. I hated feeling weak. I may have been that person before my accident, but for whatever reason, I didn't want to be that person anymore.

Drew's legs tangled with mine, feeling like they belonged there. "Did you remember something?" he asked to the back of my head.

"I hope the h.e.l.l not. I was being chased by monkeys." I lied. I have no idea how that story just popped into my head, but it did. I turned my face toward him, and he kissed my eye. "Was I ever chased by monkeys?"

He snorted. "I'm pretty sure that was just a nightmare. Go to sleep."

I did sleep. I slept so sound, and when I woke, I was alone in Drew's bed. I wondered if he had left for his trip already. He hadn't.

I turned the k.n.o.b to his office door, and it wasn't locked. He was on the phone. I was glad that Derik wasn't there. I walked around his desk, still wearing my t-shirt and no shoes. I leaned in front of him on his desk, and he looked at me with a look that I could read. I could read it like a book. He ran his hand up my bare leg, not looking at my face. I was getting to him, and he couldn't get enough of me.

"Um...She's doing much better. She's actually sitting here in front of me," he spoke.

I looked at him with a peculiar look as he looked up to me. Who was he talking to that would have been asking about me?

"Sure, just a second," he said, handing me the desk phone.

"h.e.l.lo," I cautiously spoke.

"Morgan, dear, how are you?"

I knew that it was Mr. Callaway. I smiled at Drew as both his hands glided up my legs, lifting my shirt higher.