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Something bright and orange caught my eye. It was the carrot she dropped on the table. I grinned, deciding to up the ante. This woman made me feel things no other woman ever had, but there was something else I wanted besides a weekend with her writhing beneath, or on top, of me.
“Oh, one more thing,” I said, a wicked grin spreading across my face. “You have to bake me an entire tray of homemade muffins.”
“Muffins?” she asked, confusion clear on her almost too pretty face.
“Carrot muffins,” I clarified, watching her gaze flare with understanding.
Chapter Seven- Morena
I jogged behind Jeremy, aka the asshole, with all my jiggly bits on full display for the fucker as we made our way down the short path to the back door of the Kent’s mansion. The glances he kept casting behind him ensured I knew he was watching. I’d never actually been inside his house, except for sneaking into his bedroom once or twice.
Ah, to be young again—ugh, gag.
My mouth dropped open as I took in the rich furniture and polished interior. I knew he had money, but this place screamed old money. Heavily polished furniture, marble floors, and dark wood paneling filled my vision. It looked more like a museum than a house. I was actually afraid to touch anything.
“Ignore the mess,” he said.
“What mess?” I mumbled, and Jeremy shook his blond head and made a chuffing sound.
Funny, I used to think of him like he was a big lion from one of those paranormal romance books I used to devour as a teen.
A golden demigod wooing the simpering damsel right off her feet. Then again, I was no damsel, simpering or otherwise. And he was just a man.
Anyway, who was I kidding? I still reread my old favorites, though I had now moved on to include naughty contemporary romances that made my heart, and other parts, flutter with desire. I cleared my throat gently, having forgotten to breathe for a moment.
It had been a long time since my pink bits showed any sign of being interested in anyone. Why now? Why him? Jeremy Kent was the ideal alpha male, from the top of his six foot five-inch frame, and his impossibly wide shoulders that narrowed dramatically to showcase incredible pecs, rock hard abs, and slender rodeo cowboy hips, to the bottoms of his size thirteen feet.
He’d been a heartthrob as a teenager, but thirty-two year old Jeremy was devastating. He still had the height, the shoulders, the pecs and the abs, which I knew, since he wasn’t wearing a shirt. But he’d gotten bigger somehow.
Like he worked on the farms that made him rich, even in December. He still maintained that golden glow to his skin that meant he’d seen sunshine and his hair, shorter now, was the same ash blond that seemed to beg for my fingers.
Still, I remembered his mother had always been a clean freak. Tales of locals who’d worked for Mrs. Kent and left in tears after being berated for not performing to her demanding standards ran rampant when I’d moved to Kent Township.
Living in a town that bore your name must give some people an over-inflated sense of entitlement. As we walked through the place, everything seemed neat as a pin. I don’t know what he was worried about.
“Are your parents out of town?”
“Would I be walking you to my room looking like that if they were here?” he asked, turning his head to look at me with that same wicked grin that used to melt my heart when I was a teen.
Of course, now it had a more pronounced effect on me. The kind of effect that made me squirm under his watchful stare.
Hubba hubba.
We made it to his room a moment later and, yep, there he was. The real Jeremy Kent. Jock, nerd, stud. Old trophies lined the shelves, a framed photo of a famous popstar hung on one wall—no posters and duct tape for Jeremy Kent—and stacks of boxes in various stages of packing or unpacking lined one wall. There were clothes carelessly strewn about, most of which had landed on a big leather lounge chair. An open laptop and a pile of books, mostly on chemistry and biology, filled his desk.
On the far side of the room, and taking up the most space, was a huge four-post bed with hunter green sheets and a thick coverlet thrown aside. He hadn’t made his bed yet today. I wondered if the sheets would smell like he used to.
Peppermint Chapstick and CK One cologne.
“Ouch!”
Shit. I’d been so busy looking around, I forgot to look in front of me and I walked right into a chair, stubbing my toe.
“Are you alright?” Jeremy asked, turning swiftly and kneeling down to check my foot.
Of course, that brought his ridiculously handsome face right on level with my currently naked pussy.
And that was when I knew things were about to get very interesting.
