Page 64 of The Snowflake Effect

His rumbling laugh fills the night air. And my chest. “Noted, Connor. But I distinctly remember a certain woman’s hands enjoying this hair.”

More than he knows, but I’m too jumpy to play nice. Shoving the door with my elbow, I rack my brain, needing to match his obscure nickname, which I don’t understand, with one of my own.

Eighties hair bands and my brother’s first Guns N’ Roses album comes to mind. “You certainly have a keen memory, Axl. The details you hold onto are impressive. Are you one of those idiot savants? And who the hell is Connor?”

Another laugh. “More idiot than savant. And if you don’t know who Connor is, you aren’t watching the right movies.”

“I watch cinema. You watch trash.” Squinting, I rack my brain for the movie reference, so I can defend myself against whatever fun he’s poking. Connor. Connor.

Damn him and his cryptic self.

I get out of the car, and Kolton barely backs up. Barely gives me space. His warm brown eyes are heavy on me, passing over my breasts, my hips, then my legs in the short shorts I put back on in my apartment.

“I came here to talk, Bon Jovi. Stop with the sexy looks.”

Not backing away, he watches me a breath longer, knowing I’m full of crap. Knowing I won’t be able to stay away from him tonight. Then he says, “If I’d known about your shit taste in music, Connor, I would’ve made a mix tape and bought you a Walkman.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “That would’ve been awesome. You can thank my hillbilly brother for my love of cheesy eighties rock.”

He nods. “Noted. Come on. Let’s go inside.”

Stepping away from me, he heads for his mansion, and I pause, enjoying my unimpeded view of his tight ass. Suppressing a moan, I follow him inside.

A massive chandelier hangs above the large vestibule, and a Persian carpet is spread over the marble floor below it. In my mind, I break up the cream walls with sections of wood, swapping the ornate trim with clean lines. The elaborate front bench lowers, taking on a geometric, Japanese simplicity, lime accents on a cushion, bamboo lining one of the walls.

Kolton waits at the base of a spiral staircase and juts his chin toward the second floor. “Stella and Jackson sleep upstairs, and there’s another spare room up there. As well as three bedrooms in the lower level. I sleep in a room on the main floor, on the other side of the kitchen. I got you some food. We can talk while you eat.”

My motor skills cease again, all but my hammering heart. His room. Will we end up in there tonight? Will I finally see all his manly perfection in the flesh?

I follow him into the kitchen, where he has, of course, laid out one of my favorite meals.

“Am I this predictable?” I ask, eyeing the mushroom-stuffed chicken breast next to the Anton’s bag—the restaurant I mentioned loving a week ago.

“I just pay attention to things I’m interested in.” He walks close and reaches around me, pushing something out from behind the takeout bag.

No, he didn’t.

The masterpiece that is the cookie dough cupcake has me salivating: vanilla cake filled with fudge, garnished with cookie-dough frosting and a chocolate chip cookie.

Sex disguised as cake.

I groan at the sight of its perfection, and Kolton is on me in seconds.

His mouth swallows my sounds, which are getting louder. And louder. So much for talking. Or breathing. I’ve relived my moments with him countless times, but the real thing…

He drags his hands all over my body as he presses my back into the island countertop, then he lifts me onto the stool and nudges my legs open for him. Like they need the assistance.

His lips are soft but firm, demanding more from me. Devouring me. “Shay,” he murmurs.

“Kolton,” I answer, my head tipping back as he sucks a line down my neck.

How I managed to put off his advances is a mystery. His jeans are barely containing him, the hard line of his cock pressing insistently between my thighs. I grab a fistful of his hair and force his lips back to my mouth. He tastes like sugar and cake and…cookies?

I pull my head back. “Did you eat a cupcake?”

He tries to kiss me again, but I turn my face away. He palms my ass and rubs his raging hard-on against the soft flesh scarcely covered by my short shorts and underwear. Wow. When my eyes refocus, I notice Jackson’s backpack from earlier today. Jackson’s books. With more force, I push Kolton away.

“What?” he says, his voice gruff.