Page 55 of King of Temptation

“I suppose you’re the expert in that field.” He didn’t have the strength left to carry her, so he settled for wrapping an arm around her waist as they stumbled their way to his bed. Yanking the covers back, he let her slide under the warm weight of his duvet before joining her, his arms once again reaching for her, pulling her back against him.

Wrapped up in each other, they let the exhaustion finally claim them, and he fell asleep to the sound of her soft snores rumbling in his ear.

Goldie

* * *

Apparently near-death experiences and getting fucked against a shower wall were the key to a good night’s sleep.

She woke feeling surprisingly rested given the events of the night before, though a bit disappointed to wake alone. After using the bathroom—Jesus she hadn’t realized how stunning it was last night—and finding an oversized t-shirt to cover at least some of her nakedness, she headed downstairs in search of her… host.

Thinking of him as her Daddy in the bright light of day felt wrong. Calling him that when he’d had her pinned to a tile wall driving her absolutely out of her mind with pleasure had been one thing. But now it felt a bit too intimate.

A feeling that was only compounded when she found him in the kitchen, a fresh cup of coffee at his elbow as he stood at the stove, cooking up something that filled the kitchen with the scent of spice and meat. She paused in the entryway of the spacious room, watching him, unsure of her reception.

“Coffee’s in the pot or there’s an electric kettle if you prefer tea.”

Scowling at his back, she crossed to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee she didn’t actually want in the mug he’d left out for her. “How did you know I was there?”

Brody glanced over his shoulder, a smug smile on his lips. “You walk very loudly, menace.”

“I do not!”

“Like a fucking Great Dane.”

Insulted, she stomped toward the refrigerator, stopping halfway to glare down at her bare feet. Okay, sure, she was walking loudly now, but she was mad. A girl was entitled to a little stomping when she was mad.

Jerk.

She tiptoed the rest of the way and added a generous helping of fresh cream to her coffee, but when she glanced around, there was no obvious sign of a sugar bowl. Back at her apartment, she had a cute little bowl with a winking smiley face on it that she used to hold the sugar she always dumped into her coffee.

“What’s wrong, menace?”

It shouldn’t have embarrassed her to not know where anything was, seeing as how she was in a brand-new place after the longest two days of her life. But she still felt the heat of it lick along her skin as she tightened her hold on her coffee cup. “Sugar?”

“Don’t have any,” he said without bothering to turn around.

“Oh.” Well… that was going to be a problem. How was she supposed to drink coffee without sugar?

Not wanting to be a nuisance, regardless of his nickname for her, she added another splash of cream to her mug before settling at the island to watch him cook. Which wasn’t the worst way to start her morning.

The coffee, on the other hand, might actually be the worst. Ugh.

“Sleep okay?”

Perched on the padded stool, she forced herself to take another sip of her coffee as she let her gaze roam over the broad muscles of his back. Even with a t-shirt stretched over them, there was no hiding the strength that rippled with every movement, momentarily distracting her until he looked over his shoulder again, clearly expecting an answer.

“Better than I expected. You?”

Because she was watching those ridiculously ripped muscles, she saw the way they bunched, the way he tensed before he deliberately relaxed and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “As well as one can.”

Guilt pricked at her, little needles stabbing at her gut until she couldn’t even stomach the coffee she held. “I, ah, wanted to say thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t owe me either, menace.”

Stubborn asshole. “But I do. Everything that happened yesterday could have been avoided if I’d listened to you in the first place and stayed out of your business.” She’d come to that conclusion between bouts of Richard’s too-calm explanations about the role she would play in the O’Rourkes’ demise. “You were right. About everything. And I’m a fucking dumbass for not listening to you from the start.”

Again she watched those muscles tense before he slowly turned, one brow raising toward his hairline. His very messy hairline, which looked as though he’d literally rolled out of bed and came downstairs to make them breakfast.