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“You kept me warm, at least,” she commented.
I grabbed the cover and pulled it up over us both, and shifted closer. No grabbing, or she’d stiffen up. I was starting to get the Kat choreography down. She needed extra time, she needed breathing room, and she needed for her prickly bullshit to roll right off my back, and not be taken personally. I was getting the hang of it.
But if I tried to lay down the law, she would tear me to pieces. Hmm.
It was a thorny dilemma, since I wanted to keep her safe. And in my bed.
I heard a grumbling sound from her belly. My own, always suggestible, responded, and we both laughed. “Are you hungry?” I asked.
“I could eat,” she admitted “Have we got some leftovers from that amazing lunch in a fridge somewhere?”
“I’m sure we do, but I’ll do you one better,” I said. “I can make kickass buttermilk blueberry pancakes. Like you would not believe.”
She let out an involuntary whimper. “Oh, my God, really? Lay it on me, Masters. What kind of eccentric billionaire makes his own pancakes?”
“From scratch, I take pains to point out, and enough with the billionaire cracks. I had a little sister to feed, okay? I could even make you a pancake mouse, or a pancake man, or a pancake flower if you want, with decorative chocolate chips or blueberries. I have got game, when it comes to pancakes. My French toast isn’t bad, either.”
“I think I hit a nerve,” she teased.
“Well then?” I slid out of the bed and snapped to turn on the light. “Let me show off.”
“I can’t wait to check out your pancake game, but I cannot walk around your apartment in the condition you have reduced me to,” she said. “I need a shower.”
“Fine. Right through that far door. On the other side of the bathroom is the wardrobe. Use anything. One of my robes, or shirts, whatever else you find. Feel free.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
“You remember how to get to the kitchen? I’ll turn on the lights as I go.”
Her smile was more relaxed than any look I had seen on her face thus far. “I’m sure I can blunder my way back to the kitchen,” she said. “Particularly with the smell of pancakes to guide me. Go on, Ethan. Get to work. I want my pancakes.”
“I’m afraid to turn my back,” I blurted, out of nowhere. “I’m afraid you’ll disappear.”
“Not without my pancakes, I won’t,” she assured me.
But I just kept on standing there, mind wiped blank, smiling like an idiot. Amazed at how freaking beautiful she was.
“You’re just going to have to trust me,” she said. “It’s your turn for that.”
I turned and marched out to the sound of her soft laughter.
CHAPTER14
Kat
Itook longer in the shower than I had to. It was just too much, all that pleasure and excitement and revelation. I had to back off.
I couldn’t believe I had found myself actually wanting to tell him my awful, dangerous secrets. The disaster that had befallen my lost sisters and me.
I’d stopped myself just barely in time. That way lay a whole world of hurt. I wasn’t going to do that to him. He didn’t deserve it. No one did, but particularly not this guy. This delicious, attractive, charismatic, yummy, problematic guy. He’d been through plenty of hell of his own, just like me. Which somehow made the barriers between us thinner.
He was sneaky as hell, though. Like an expert cat burglar, delicately picking all my locks, and hey presto, my legs fell open.
And now he’d decided it was his moral responsibility to keep me safe, which was sweet of him, very gallant, but a huge pain in the ass. That triggered all kinds of territorial animal behaviors in men, which were extremely difficult to manage. It was up to me to keep my head on straight. Too late to keep my panties on, though. Oh, well.
God, the man was magic. He could actually touch me at will without triggering my defensive reflexes and getting clobbered. I couldn’t imagine how he pulled it off.
I went into Ethan Masters’ wardrobe, and laughed out loud. That room alone was the size of my living room and kitchen combined. Closets with racks of suits, coats, pants, shirts. Shelves full of gleaming shoes. Drawers full of silk ties. For fuck’s sake.
