For some reason, the picture of eggs runs through my mind. And then it disappears and makes room for something else. I imagine myself running my fingers through his hair and pulling him on top of me, my legs wrapped around his narrow hips, his weight pinning me down as his huge cock enters me.
Our gazes meet, and something flickers in his eyes.
Awareness.
Knowledge.
Something else.
Something so deep, it travels through my abdomen and settles in a deep pull between my legs. As if sensing my sexual response to him, he starts to smile—the same, irritating grin he tossed at me during our first encounter. I don’t have to ask him what he’s thinking. He knows I’m attracted to him. I mean, what woman in her right mind with her panties in the right place wouldn’t be? And judging from his smug expression, he didn’t expect anything else from me. In fact, the way he stares at my chest suggests he isn’t averse to a bit of touching either.
His ego certainly fits the chick magnet of a car and the attitude that came with it the night we first met. The kind of attitude that comes with experience. Years of dating jerks have taught me to spot it from a mile away.
Thank God I’m immune to whatever Kellan Boyd’s charm is. Maybe he’s used to being the center of attention, but he’s most certainly not going to flicker anywhere on my radar.
“I like my eggs like you take them,” I say coolly.
He doesn’t even blink. “Can I convince you to try the bacon, too? Because you strike me as a meat person.”
And here it is again: the slightest hint of sexual innuendo accompanied by another lingering look at my chest. A tremor rides my core as I shrug, forcing myself to remain as unfazed as humanly possible. “Sure. I’d love some bacon. Make it extra greasy.”
His brow shoots up, and his face brightens just a little bit more. “I love a woman who loves to eat,” he states with what I assume is admiration, his eyes roaming over my body again. “You have a nice body. Lots to grab and hold on to.”
Wow.
Talk about direct.
I’m not even sure any woman would take ‘lots to grab’ as a compliment.
I pull the sheets up to my chin to cover up. I even throw him a venomous look for not even trying to pretend to look away, but I don’t quite succeed. “Is there anything else?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” he says and pauses. Before I can open my mouth and ask him what the hell he wants, he continues, “Yeah, before I forget. Your friend left.”
“She left?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah.” He nods. “About twenty minutes ago.”
I regard him, stunned, my heart beating frantically against my chest. Mandy just left me here—with him? “Are you joking?”
“Feel free to check her room.”
A wave of something hot sprouts somewhere inside me—not the emotional kind, but the sexy kind, the kind that crawls right under my skin and makes it tingle. “Maybe I’ll do that.” I stare at him, ready to challenge him, but Kellan just laughs.
“Okay. While you do that, make sure to be on time.”
“For what?”
“Breakfast. What else?” He winks at me. “It’ll be ready in fifteen. Feel free to put on some clothes…or not. I’d rather you didn’t anyway.” The irritating grin doesn’t leave his face as he turns around, calling over his shoulder, “By the way, I prefer my eggs hard, just like everything else about me.”
He closes the door behind him.
I swallow hard and stare at the empty space he left behind.
Eventually, I shake my head and pull the covers over my face, groaning loudly.
Mandy left without telling me? And what the fuck did Kellan mean by putting on some clothes…or not? I thought I had made myself clear back in NYC that I wasn’t interested in him.
My impression of him seems to shift from one end of the spectrum to the next, just like my emotions shift from guilty awe to the desperate need to hate him. He looks like a decent but sexy kind of guy when he just smiles. But once he opens his mouth, every single thing that comes out of it seems to irk me.
It’s like sex is the only thing he ever thinks about.
How the fuck can someone like him focus on work long enough to make a living and drive the half a million car he does?
Okay, I’ll admit I Googled the price tag of his Lamborghini.
Judging from what I’ve seen so far, he’s filthy rich with a filthy mouth and even filthier morals.
I’ve never been around a guy like him.
Even though breakfast sounds like something I’m very much in need of, the idea of being alone with him doesn’t seem too appealing. But if I avoid him, he’ll think I’m doing it because he’s so sexy I can’t take it.
Which is kind of the truth.
I can’t take just how much he gets under my skin.
Obviously, this nonsense has to stop.
Mandy has to come back now.
Full stop.
Grabbing the phone from my night table, I dial her number, but the instant beep confirms I have no signal.
Crap!