Yes, I slept well.
Too well. All thanks to him.
In broad daylight, he still looks like the jerk I remember from our first meeting. A sexy grin tugs at one corner of his mouth, sending my insides into a jumbled frenzy of stirred emotions. The hair is definitely longer than it was back in NYC, and the crisp businessman look is gone. The slightest hint of dark stubble throws shadows on his cheeks and chin, and he looks surprisingly sexy in yet another pair of faded denims and a snug shirt that leaves little to the imagination. Without a doubt, he’s the most stunning man I have ever seen. And I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself in his presence. I’m the most reasonable and composed person I’ve ever known. Nothing ever fazes me, and yet, for some reason, I can’t be my usual cool self around him. Particularly not now, with all those vivid memories occupying my mind.
Does he know I watched him jerk off?
Impossible. His eyes were closed the whole time, and I’m sure I stood there no longer than two minutes. I mean, surely no one can hold their breath for longer than that.
But did he hear my moans through the thin walls?
I tried to be quiet, but how quiet can you be when you’re lost in sexual nirvana?
That was the question that bothered me immediately after I came. Even if he heard me, why shouldn’t I consider it only fair that he be embarrassed too? After all, fair is fair.
Why am I even pondering over what can’t be changed now?
Because he can’t possibly know.
I need to push this memory to the back of my mind—deny it, bury it deep inside my subconscious, so that not even a Freud follower could extract it. I’m going to lie to myself until the lie becomes the truth. How hard can that be?
Until then, it’s going to be my secret.
My terrible, hot…hot…hot secret.
Oh, God.
No one has a cock like Kellan: big, engorged, perfect in its size and thickness.
No one redefines jerking off the way he does. He’s the reinvention of holy hotness.
I’m such a lost cause. If Sigmund Freud were still alive, I know what he’d tell me, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
“Everything okay? You look a little flustered,” Kellan remarks.
“Yeah. I just had a—”
Bad dream, I wanted to say, but I can’t, because then I would have to lie and claim the dream was most certainly not about him, nor about his gift of a manhood to the female population.
“You had what?” Kellan prompts.
“I just couldn’t—”
Sleep.
What the hell!
I can’t say that either because he might think that I heard him. If he so much as catches a whiff of the idea that I sneaked around last night, I’m so going down. Big and fast—like the way he pumped into his palm.
Shit.
The words big and fast are making me horny.
“Mmmh.” Kellan nods as though he totally gets me, which I’m sure he doesn’t. “So, you slept well? The fresh country air must have knocked you out.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I slept like a stone. No, make that a boulder.” What the fuck am I saying? That doesn’t make any sense. I let out a nervous laugh. Heat rolls over my body in thick, fast waves, and the tender spot between my legs begins to pulsate again. I need to get this guy out of my bedroom. “Thanks for letting us stay the night.”
“No problem.” He leans against the doorframe and regards me, amused. “It’s nice to have company. Your friend told me a bit about you after you left.”
Judging from Kellan’s grin, Mandy’s revealed all the crappy details of my failed love life and all the embarrassing, cringe-worthy incidents that came with it.
I’m all for honesty, just not to a hot guy.
Glaring at Kellan, I pray to God she’s kept her mouth shut for a change.
If she didn’t, I know I’ll have to kill her and dump her body, and I’m not sure I have the guts for it.
The only reason I’m not taking the bait and asking what exactly she said is because I really need him to leave.
“I’m making breakfast,” Kellan says casually. His gaze slides over me, from my tousled hair down to my breasts almost spilling out of my bra and the not exactly matching but comfortable panties I thought were fine for a road trip. My heavier bag is still in my car, as finding my way around this place at two a.m. didn’t seem like such a good idea. Besides, I didn’t feel like dragging the thing through the mud all by myself again, so I had no other option but to sleep in yesterday’s underwear. To my mortification, Kellan’s gaze remains glued to the way the silk panties seem to stick to my hips and ass. “How do you like your eggs?”
The question is harmless enough.
If it weren’t for the sparkle in his eyes…
Dammit.
I thought we were past that.