Hell, just being near Charlize drove him crazy
but watching her come earlier had nearly killed him.
The way her neck arched, her lips parted, the look of
complete ecstasy that softened her features as he pushed her over the edge.
They needed to finish things. Fucking Charlize would be the most ruthless sex
of his life. He had no doubt. And she could handle him too. She made him lose
control. He needed to give her everything. Do all the things to her he’d
stopped himself from doing in the past.
No barriers between them, nothing but raw, naked sex.
His cock continued to throb and he stalked back into
Charlize’s room. She lay curled on her side, hands tucked under her cheek.
Sleeping like a freaking angel.
Glorious black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her
back. The throbbing sensation moved from his cock to his chest. He’d never seen
her hair loose but never in his wettest dreams could he have pictured her like
this—surrounded by a halo of soft, dark waves. Wearing a pale-pink nightgown,
her fucking magnificent breasts filling the front like a goddamn fantasy. He
could slide up that gown, wake her with his cock. He would, if she didn’t need
her rest so badly. He’d have to wait but she’d pay for that later.
Connor drew the abandoned quilt over her. A small bottle
rested on her side table. He picked it up and studied the label, squinted to
make out the words in the dark. He moved to the open doorway and read it in the
filtering light.
Fucking hell .
Sleeping medication. He put the bottle back where it had
been. She didn’t need to know he’d seen it. Starting tomorrow, he was fixing
this shit. She wouldn’t need a drug again to relax. He’d show her exactly what
she needed.
By tomorrow evening she’d be so fucking relaxed she’d have
trouble walking.
* * * * *
Charlize woke to the smell of bacon. Its smoky
scrumptiousness wafted into her room and summoned her. The aroma also reminded
her she was not alone in her home—and she’d fallen asleep with Connor’s promise
of “serious trouble” still ringing in her ears.
She washed and dressed in gym gear. Then took care of the
glass on the floor with the portable vacuum from her closet. The throw she
tossed in the trash. Still, it took her a full two minutes to summon the nerve
to open her bedroom door and walk through it. The smell got better the closer
she got to the kitchen but the view—now that was freaking delicious.
Connor owned her kitchen like a rock star owned a stage—even
in track pants and a plain white T-shirt. His back rippled as he shifted pans
across the stove. He threw a handful of something into a pan and the contents
sizzled with sound as if he were playing an instrument. Her mouth watered but not
for food.
She’d gobble up just about anything he dished up.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Sit down.”
Connor ducked his head toward the kitchen stools and she
plopped onto one. Plates, cutlery, even coffee waited on the counter.
What the hell was happening? Had she stepped into an
alternate universe where hot, bossy men waited on women? She picked up the
coffee and took a gulp and tried not to choke on her overeager swallow. Connor
carried a pan from the stove and slid two eggs onto her plate and four onto his
own. She stared at the perfectly cooked eggs. Yep, alternate universe all right.
Simon hadn’t known how the kettle worked let alone ever
lowered himself to cook for her. Pity for him she couldn’t cook for shit. He’d
gotten to bitch about a whole heap of undercooked pasta and burned sausages in
their time together.
Connor returned with more pans and loaded her plate with
bacon, mushrooms, and beans in a thick sauce. “Homemade baked beans. Eat up,
they’re good for you.” He put the pan into the sink and slid onto the stool
next to her.
“I’m surprised you could find what you needed in my pantry
to make them.”
Her plate could barely hold the food piled onto it. She
glanced at his plate. He
but watching her come earlier had nearly killed him.
The way her neck arched, her lips parted, the look of
complete ecstasy that softened her features as he pushed her over the edge.
They needed to finish things. Fucking Charlize would be the most ruthless sex
of his life. He had no doubt. And she could handle him too. She made him lose
control. He needed to give her everything. Do all the things to her he’d
stopped himself from doing in the past.
No barriers between them, nothing but raw, naked sex.
His cock continued to throb and he stalked back into
Charlize’s room. She lay curled on her side, hands tucked under her cheek.
Sleeping like a freaking angel.
Glorious black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her
back. The throbbing sensation moved from his cock to his chest. He’d never seen
her hair loose but never in his wettest dreams could he have pictured her like
this—surrounded by a halo of soft, dark waves. Wearing a pale-pink nightgown,
her fucking magnificent breasts filling the front like a goddamn fantasy. He
could slide up that gown, wake her with his cock. He would, if she didn’t need
her rest so badly. He’d have to wait but she’d pay for that later.
Connor drew the abandoned quilt over her. A small bottle
rested on her side table. He picked it up and studied the label, squinted to
make out the words in the dark. He moved to the open doorway and read it in the
filtering light.
Fucking hell .
Sleeping medication. He put the bottle back where it had
been. She didn’t need to know he’d seen it. Starting tomorrow, he was fixing
this shit. She wouldn’t need a drug again to relax. He’d show her exactly what
she needed.
By tomorrow evening she’d be so fucking relaxed she’d have
trouble walking.
* * * * *
Charlize woke to the smell of bacon. Its smoky
scrumptiousness wafted into her room and summoned her. The aroma also reminded
her she was not alone in her home—and she’d fallen asleep with Connor’s promise
of “serious trouble” still ringing in her ears.
She washed and dressed in gym gear. Then took care of the
glass on the floor with the portable vacuum from her closet. The throw she
tossed in the trash. Still, it took her a full two minutes to summon the nerve
to open her bedroom door and walk through it. The smell got better the closer
she got to the kitchen but the view—now that was freaking delicious.
Connor owned her kitchen like a rock star owned a stage—even
in track pants and a plain white T-shirt. His back rippled as he shifted pans
across the stove. He threw a handful of something into a pan and the contents
sizzled with sound as if he were playing an instrument. Her mouth watered but not
for food.
She’d gobble up just about anything he dished up.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Sit down.”
Connor ducked his head toward the kitchen stools and she
plopped onto one. Plates, cutlery, even coffee waited on the counter.
What the hell was happening? Had she stepped into an
alternate universe where hot, bossy men waited on women? She picked up the
coffee and took a gulp and tried not to choke on her overeager swallow. Connor
carried a pan from the stove and slid two eggs onto her plate and four onto his
own. She stared at the perfectly cooked eggs. Yep, alternate universe all right.
Simon hadn’t known how the kettle worked let alone ever
lowered himself to cook for her. Pity for him she couldn’t cook for shit. He’d
gotten to bitch about a whole heap of undercooked pasta and burned sausages in
their time together.
Connor returned with more pans and loaded her plate with
bacon, mushrooms, and beans in a thick sauce. “Homemade baked beans. Eat up,
they’re good for you.” He put the pan into the sink and slid onto the stool
next to her.
“I’m surprised you could find what you needed in my pantry
to make them.”
Her plate could barely hold the food piled onto it. She
glanced at his plate. He
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