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That's a good one. I'm impressed, but I'll never admit it.
I hear him tinkering away in the kitchen. I’m surprised he knows where it is. He's pampered, which usually is a major turnoff, but his sexy, come-fuck-me body overrides my senses.
A few minutes later, he sets down a fishbowl-sized glass of wine with a plate of cheese, cured meat, and fruit.
"What the hell is this?" I state in shock. I glance over my shoulder. "Is there a chef in there I don’t know about?"
He grabs a cube of cheese. "I know how to take care of my woman," he claims as he pops it in his mouth.
I sit back in the chair and cross my arms. "Just how many times have you used that line?" I look at the plate, "And made this?"
His grin grows from ear to ear, "I’ve never made food for anyone, Harper. Only for you."
My eyes narrow in speculation. "I don’t consider myself lucky, then, Kent. Experience is a good thing. This food might kill me."
He snorts a laugh, "I’m more than experienced where it matters most, as you know." He holds my eyes as he licks his fingertips—just like he did that night.
Damn my cheeks for blushing. That’s it! I’m switching to full-coverage foundation.
He turns, sauntering away like a cowboy that just roped his cattle, or whatever it is cowboys do. He’s got a winner’s glow that seems to linger even after he’s left the room. My shoulders slump, and I look at the couch.
"This is going to be really bad, Harper," I whisper to myself as I reach for the wine. "Hold your ground, cross your legs, and don’t give in no matter what," I say, then I swallow down some wine, feeling like a cheerleader who lacks peppiness. My pussy, on the other hand, is jumping for joy over Kent’s declaration.
Damn her.
Chapter 54
Harper
"You are far too serious," Kent says with a thick voice from sleep. As he rolls onto his back, his grey sheets wrap and pull tight over his hips, making him look like a Greek sculpture being unveiled at the Louvre museum. Trust me, the crowds would come for him.
“It’s called work, Kent. I know it’s shocking; some people actually work and don’t just fuck around,” I bite back, angrily stabbing at the keyboard.
Did I sleep in his bed? Yes, but for argument's sake, it was just that, to prevent an argument, which seems to be our new form of foreplay. So yes, I crawled into bed after having a second glass of wine. I slept like a baby, cradled and swaddled tight. I woke up with Kent’s arms hugging me, his left leg swung over me, and yes, his hard cock pressed against my back. In other words, I woke in utter bliss.
Fucking hell, I’m weak! Hell, where are you, because I’d like to throw Kent behind your fire gates.
“You’re angry?” He says as he draws his muscular arm up to prop his head higher, “I know a good way to make your morning better.” He shifts his hip.
He’s hard…and now I’m starting to get wet.
Stop it! Focus!
The better question is: why did I grab Poppy’s new laptop after waking up, only to come back to bed with it instead of working at the kitchen table? If Kent asks, I’d tell him it was because I was cold. Lies. I missed his heat. That, and I kept looking at his almost naked body to calm me down. I need to calm down because I’m about to blow a gasket.
“Yes. I'm fuming, actually. Wise assumption, Kent. You can read facial gestures. Bravo, you’re functioning at toddler level. Now be a good boy, and let me work.”
“Come on, Siren,” he mumbles, “tell me what’s got your panties in a bunch. Actually,” he leans on his side, his hand sliding under the covers to my thigh, “let me help un-bunch them.”
“Not now!” I hiss.Oh lord, his fingers feel so good on my skin.
He chuckles, “That’s an opening for later. I’ll take the raincheck.”
“You're impossible.”
“I know,” he grins as he pushes to sit up. I continue to work, feeling his eyes burning into me. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on to have you so determined? I’m turned on, yet also jealous,” Kent admits.
“You won’t understand,” I grumble.
