Finding Gray: A Colloway Brothers Prequel (.5) (The Colloway Brothers Book 1) by K.L. Kreig
Authors: K.L. Kreig
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Chapter 1
W hen I see him , I stop dead in my tracks. He is the epitome of sexy. The very definition. My skin turns hot and my heart starts this little pitter-patter rhythm that makes me angry. I dreamed about him and those smoldering eyes of his all night last night. Woke up soaked everywhere, my pulse pounding, my core throbbing.
I don’t want to want him, the arrogant son-of-bitch, but crap ...I kinda do.
My entire body is a turncoat right now, because while my mind may be confused, my body is not. She wants the penetrating eyes of this incredibly handsome man to run all over her, followed by his tongue, then maybe his hands. Definitely his hands.
But thinking about the tip he left last night infuriates me. He may be panty wetting good looking, what with that strong jaw rockin’ the scruffy look, but leaving a hundred-dollar tip on a fifty-dollar bill is nothing short of haughty.
Harnessing that irritation until it overrides my raging hormones, I steel myself, grabbing a menu covered in plastic from the pile and march over to his table.
“I don’t need your charity,” I shoot with venom as I throw it down in front of him. It skitters to the edge and tips over into his lap. He looks down at it, then back to me. The ends of his mouth kick upward before he picks it up and sets it back down gently. I try not to notice how thick and masculine his fingers look and how well they would fit inside…
“It’s a good thing I’m not a charitable person, then,” he replies casually. My body, that bitch, she preens as his eyes walk all over me: from scuffed black shoes and drab clothes all the way to my messy hair, which is falling out of the bun I’d put it in prior to my shift.
“Go out with me,” he states plainly. As if he liked what he saw, even though I’m sure I have mascara smudged underneath my eyes. As if he didn’t ask me out five times last night and forgot what the word no meant. As if the different worlds we come from don’t matter at all. But they do. Unfortunately even that doesn’t stop my body from prickling.
“Are you really that conceited or are you just stupid? I thought MIT was a college for smart people?” I throw that little factoid from last night back in his face. His very attractive face.
He chuckles, amused. “I’m that confident.”
My mouth falls open. Why the hell do I like that so much? I should hate this arrogant asshole. For some reason though, he fascinates me instead. But he’s so far out of my league; I could swing all day and miss every single time. Coming to my senses, I snap my mouth shut and lie, “I already told you I didn’t want to go out with you.”
Again with the grin. “I don’t give up that easily, Livvy.”
I feel my face flame hot. Holy balls, that nickname dropped straight inside my panties and caressed me deliberately from front to back.
“My name is Livia. Not Livvy.” You sounded breathy, didn’t you? Shit.
“Tomorrow night. Just one date.”
“I have to work tomorrow night.” Better. More power behind that one. Now next time, mean it.
“Then the night after that,” he counters smoothly, undeterred.
Sighing, I look over his shoulder to the cracked plastic of the booth he’s in. I have a feeling this guy won’t give up until he gets what he wants. And it’s obvious he wants me.
I want to say yes. I want to let him take me out to a fancy restaurant. Wine me. Dine me. Do more to me. But letting myself live in this fantasy where there’s any chance we could work is foolish and irresponsible. I’m working my ass off just to pay for a few classes at the local community college while he will probably graduate from a $50,000 a year university not owing a dime, no doubt his rich parents footing the bill.
Not to mention the responsibility I have caring for Alyse, my younger sister. I doubt Mr. MIT would know the first thing about the weighty obligations of being a stand-in parent because your mother abandoned you and the only one you
W hen I see him , I stop dead in my tracks. He is the epitome of sexy. The very definition. My skin turns hot and my heart starts this little pitter-patter rhythm that makes me angry. I dreamed about him and those smoldering eyes of his all night last night. Woke up soaked everywhere, my pulse pounding, my core throbbing.
I don’t want to want him, the arrogant son-of-bitch, but crap ...I kinda do.
My entire body is a turncoat right now, because while my mind may be confused, my body is not. She wants the penetrating eyes of this incredibly handsome man to run all over her, followed by his tongue, then maybe his hands. Definitely his hands.
But thinking about the tip he left last night infuriates me. He may be panty wetting good looking, what with that strong jaw rockin’ the scruffy look, but leaving a hundred-dollar tip on a fifty-dollar bill is nothing short of haughty.
Harnessing that irritation until it overrides my raging hormones, I steel myself, grabbing a menu covered in plastic from the pile and march over to his table.
“I don’t need your charity,” I shoot with venom as I throw it down in front of him. It skitters to the edge and tips over into his lap. He looks down at it, then back to me. The ends of his mouth kick upward before he picks it up and sets it back down gently. I try not to notice how thick and masculine his fingers look and how well they would fit inside…
“It’s a good thing I’m not a charitable person, then,” he replies casually. My body, that bitch, she preens as his eyes walk all over me: from scuffed black shoes and drab clothes all the way to my messy hair, which is falling out of the bun I’d put it in prior to my shift.
“Go out with me,” he states plainly. As if he liked what he saw, even though I’m sure I have mascara smudged underneath my eyes. As if he didn’t ask me out five times last night and forgot what the word no meant. As if the different worlds we come from don’t matter at all. But they do. Unfortunately even that doesn’t stop my body from prickling.
“Are you really that conceited or are you just stupid? I thought MIT was a college for smart people?” I throw that little factoid from last night back in his face. His very attractive face.
He chuckles, amused. “I’m that confident.”
My mouth falls open. Why the hell do I like that so much? I should hate this arrogant asshole. For some reason though, he fascinates me instead. But he’s so far out of my league; I could swing all day and miss every single time. Coming to my senses, I snap my mouth shut and lie, “I already told you I didn’t want to go out with you.”
Again with the grin. “I don’t give up that easily, Livvy.”
I feel my face flame hot. Holy balls, that nickname dropped straight inside my panties and caressed me deliberately from front to back.
“My name is Livia. Not Livvy.” You sounded breathy, didn’t you? Shit.
“Tomorrow night. Just one date.”
“I have to work tomorrow night.” Better. More power behind that one. Now next time, mean it.
“Then the night after that,” he counters smoothly, undeterred.
Sighing, I look over his shoulder to the cracked plastic of the booth he’s in. I have a feeling this guy won’t give up until he gets what he wants. And it’s obvious he wants me.
I want to say yes. I want to let him take me out to a fancy restaurant. Wine me. Dine me. Do more to me. But letting myself live in this fantasy where there’s any chance we could work is foolish and irresponsible. I’m working my ass off just to pay for a few classes at the local community college while he will probably graduate from a $50,000 a year university not owing a dime, no doubt his rich parents footing the bill.
Not to mention the responsibility I have caring for Alyse, my younger sister. I doubt Mr. MIT would know the first thing about the weighty obligations of being a stand-in parent because your mother abandoned you and the only one you
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