AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He captured the nipple between his teeth and tugged, all the thoughts crashing out of his head bar one—as that smart-ass laugh turned into a thready moan.
Why had he always strived to be a goddamn gentleman, when bad guys got to have this much fun?
Chapter Seven
‡
Zelda felt the soft sway of the boat, her body slightly sore but mostly pleasantly numb after a second day and night of raw, energetic sex—during which all the rules had been carefully observed.
Well, apart from the rule about snuggling, because she could vaguely remember drifting off to sleep with Ty’s arm wrapped around her midriff at midnight. She sighed. Fine, she’d give him a pass on that one. At least she hadn’t woken up in his arms. She spread her hand over the rumpled sheets on Ty’s side of the double bunk, inhaling the scent of him that lingered. Then frowned at the sunshine blazing through the shutters on the back of the barge, lighting the dust motes. It had to be well after noon.
It was Monday. They only had today left to spend together, and she’d already slept half of it away.
She pushed off the flicker of melancholy. The Labor Day weekend couldn’t last forever and she needed to get back to Manhattan tomorrow. Not only was that one of the rules, but she would have to face her brother sooner or later and explain her disappearing act on Thursday night.
Not that he seemed to care.
As expected, Sebastian hadn’t bothered to check on her whereabouts. If he’d been informed of her no-show at the foundation gala, it obviously hadn’t surprised him enough to make him pick up the phone and break his usual no contact rule.
At least the press attention had died down already.
She’d spotted a headline on the cover of the Post, when she and Ty had ventured out to the Seven-Eleven to get some supplies during their all-day sex fest on Sunday, but hadn’t given it much thought. It was only the second lead, featuring a blurred picture of her taken a month or so ago with the headline: ‘Not So Model Behavior From Fantasy Girl.’ If she didn’t even warrant a name check anymore, that could only be good.
The last two days had gone by in a rush of great sex and not too much conversation. She’d ventured out to phone her sponsor first thing on Sunday morning while Ty was still fast asleep. But there hadn’t been anything too confusing to work out with Amelie. Zelda had explained about Ty, about their weekend booty call. But when Amelie had quizzed her about him, she’d dismissed her concerns.
It was okay, there was nothing serious between them. Certainly nothing for her to need to work through with Amelie. One of the few weaknesses she’d never had as an addict was relying too much on the men in her life. Her brother had taught her that lesson at thirteen and she’d never forgotten it. She’d had that minor freak-out before establishing the rules with Ty, but that was two days ago and there hadn’t been a single wobble since.
Scooping her T-shirt—correction: Ty’s T-shirt—off the deck, she threw it on and padded into the main living area following the sound of tuneless whistling and the luxurious scent of melting butter. She paused in the doorway to appreciate the view. Ty’s dark head bent over a mixing bowl as the pan sizzled on the two-ring burner. Naked to the waist, his lean, tanned back glowed bronze in the sunlight, the bare feet and the low-slung button-fly jeans adding to the picture of super sexy domesticity. Seriously, was there anything more mouthwatering than a hot guy cooking pancakes?
He dumped a dollop of the mixture into the pan, looking as focused and competent as he had the day before while bringing her to orgasm. The aroma of freshly fried batter drifted towards her and her stomach rumbled.
God, the man looked delicious. His unruly hair falling across his brow as he concentrated on the task at hand, the two-day stubble making him look rough and ready and dangerous. Drool collected under her tongue—and not just for the pancakes.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, the melancholy spiking under the lust at the realization that it was already two in the afternoon.
“You must be the only Sullivan Brother who can’t carry a tune,” she said.
The off-key whistling cut off as his head whipped round. His wide mouth tipped up in a self-deprecating grin, the lazy once over he gave her making heat glow like a hot coal in her belly.
“True enough.” His eyebrows wiggled, the smile decidedly suggestive. “Luckily, I have other much more useful talents.”
She smiled back, the glow sinking low. “Such as cooking pancakes, I see.”
“Among others things.” He gripped the pan. “Pancakes happen to be one of the three things I can cook without killing anyone. I hope you’re hungry because I’ve made enough for a football team.”
“I’m starving.” Her belly flipped over with the pancake. She blinked away the stupid sting of emotion.
Get real, Madison. He’s making you pancakes. This is not a big deal.
“What are the other two things?” she asked, as she walked to the table which was already set with syrup, plates and cutlery, and a carton of OJ.
“Oatmeal and Lucky Charms.” He slid the finished pancake onto the stack by his elbow and set up another. “I did the breakfast shift every Sunday before Mass when I was a kid, so my mom could have a couple of extra hours in bed.”
“That’s sweet.” Zelda grabbed a mug from the shelf and poured herself some of the freshly brewed coffee, trying for sarcastic but not quite pulling it off thanks to the melting sensation in the center of her chest.
“How old were you?” she asked, trying to concentrate instead on the play of his shoulder muscles as he handled the pan with proficiency.
She knew Faith’s mother had died when she was still a teenager; that was why her father had packed her off to St. John’s. She also knew how much Faith had missed her brothers, especially Finn. But how much she had also depended on Ty’s support. And over the last couple of days Zelda had begun to see why. T
