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Beautiful distraction, p.7
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       Beautiful Distraction, p.7

           J. C. Reed
 

  I need him.

  Why didn’t I take him up on his offer?

  Holy shit.

  I had no idea he looks so hot in bed.

  Watching him taking care of his needs is going to haunt my dreams. Even though we share everything, there’s no way in hell I’ll tell Mandy about it, or else she’ll make fun of me for the rest of my life.

  This is going to be a secret I’ll take with me to my grave.

  Holy. Shit.

  Through the thin walls—God, is this house made of cards?—I can hear his heavy breathing and deep groans of pleasure. He’s getting close to pleasure heaven. I’m frozen in time and space. All I can do is picture his face, his huge erection in his hand.

  Walls may be separating us, but I know in my heart he’s going to be my undoing.

  Sure, I had imagined him, us, countless times in the past few weeks.

  But I never thought I’d see him again. And surely not like this.

  I close my eyes, my mind focusing on the picture of him on his bed.

  But now he’s no longer alone.

  It’s me who’s doing all the naughty things to him. He’s groaning while I’m pleasuring him. I like the thought that he’s aroused because of me.

  My hand slips into my panties. Between my legs, I’m dripping wet—for him. The muscles inside me clench, the heat unbearable. I slide two fingers inside me, imaging it’s his fingers that glide between my wet folds.

  To the sounds coming from next door, I begin to touch myself. When he comes, my own orgasm ripples through me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A rap at the door jolts me out of a dream involving the most beautiful yet infuriating green eyes I have ever seen. I don’t bother to cover up my half-naked body as I shout, “Come in.”

  The door opens, but instead of Mandy’s head popping in, it’s Kellan who’s standing in the doorway. I sit up straight, surprised to see him, all traces of sleep gone.

  The image of his erection enters my mind, and I remember last night’s events.

  I remember what I did.

  Oh, the mortification.

  My face catches fire as I cross my legs to hide the after-orgasm effects.

  “Slept well?” He sports the usual irritating, smug expression.

  My heart skips a couple of beats.

  Yes, I slept well.

  Too well. All thanks to him.

  In broad daylight, he still looks like the jerk I remember from our first meeting. A sexy grin tugs at one corner of his mouth, sending my insides into a jumbled frenzy of stirred emotions. The hair is definitely longer than it was back in NYC, and the crisp businessman look is gone. The slightest hint of dark stubble throws shadows on his cheeks and chin, and he looks surprisingly sexy in yet another pair of faded denims and a snug shirt that leaves little to the imagination. Without a doubt, he’s the most stunning man I have ever seen. And I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself in his presence. I’m the most reasonable and composed person I’ve ever known. Nothing ever fazes me, and yet, for some reason, I can’t be my usual cool self around him. Particularly not now, with all those vivid memories occupying my mind.

  Does he know I watched him jerk off?

  Impossible. His eyes were closed the whole time, and I’m sure I stood there no longer than two minutes. I mean, surely no one can hold their breath for longer than that.

  But did he hear my moans through the thin walls?

  I tried to be quiet, but how quiet can you be when you’re lost in sexual nirvana?

  That was the question that bothered me immediately after I came. Even if he heard me, why shouldn’t I consider it only fair that he be embarrassed too? After all, fair is fair.

  Why am I even pondering over what can’t be changed now?

  Because he can’t possibly know.

  I need to push this memory to the back of my mind—deny it, bury it deep inside my subconscious, so that not even a Freud follower could extract it. I’m going to lie to myself until the lie becomes the truth. How hard can that be?

  Until then, it’s going to be my secret.

  My terrible, hot…hot…hot secret.

  Oh, God.

  No one has a cock like Kellan: big, engorged, perfect in its size and thickness.

  No one redefines jerking off the way he does. He’s the reinvention of holy hotness.

  I’m such a lost cause. If Sigmund Freud were still alive, I know what he’d tell me, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

  “Everything okay? You look a little flustered,” Kellan remarks.

  “Yeah. I just had a—”

  Bad dream, I wanted to say, but I can’t, because then I would have to lie and claim the dream was most certainly not about him, nor about his gift of a manhood to the female population.

  “You had what?” Kellan prompts.

  “I just couldn’t—”

  Sleep.

  What the hell!

  I can’t say that either because he might think that I heard him. If he so much as catches a whiff of the idea that I sneaked around last night, I’m so going down. Big and fast—like the way he pumped into his palm.

  Shit.

  The words big and fast are making me horny.

  “Mmmh.” Kellan nods as though he totally gets me, which I’m sure he doesn’t. “So, you slept well? The fresh country air must have knocked you out.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “I slept like a stone. No, make that a boulder.” What the fuck am I saying? That doesn’t make any sense. I let out a nervous laugh. Heat rolls over my body in thick, fast waves, and the tender spot between my legs begins to pulsate again. I need to get this guy out of my bedroom. “Thanks for letting us stay the night.”

  “No problem.” He leans against the doorframe and regards me, amused. “It’s nice to have company. Your friend told me a bit about you after you left.”

  Judging from Kellan’s grin, Mandy’s revealed all the crappy details of my failed love life and all the embarrassing, cringe-worthy incidents that came with it.

  I’m all for honesty, just not to a hot guy.

  Glaring at Kellan, I pray to God she’s kept her mouth shut for a change.

  If she didn’t, I know I’ll have to kill her and dump her body, and I’m not sure I have the guts for it.

  The only reason I’m not taking the bait and asking what exactly she said is because I really need him to leave.

  “I’m making breakfast,” Kellan says casually. His gaze slides over me, from my tousled hair down to my breasts almost spilling out of my bra and the not exactly matching but comfortable panties I thought were fine for a road trip. My heavier bag is still in my car, as finding my way around this place at two a.m. didn’t seem like such a good idea. Besides, I didn’t feel like dragging the thing through the mud all by myself again, so I had no other option but to sleep in yesterday’s underwear. To my mortification, Kellan’s gaze remains glued to the way the silk panties seem to stick to my hips and ass. “How do you like your eggs?”

  The question is harmless enough.

  If it weren’t for the sparkle in his eyes…

  Dammit.

  I thought we were past that.

  For some reason, the picture of eggs runs through my mind. And then it disappears and makes room for something else. I imagine myself running my fingers through his hair and pulling him on top of me, my legs wrapped around his narrow hips, his weight pinning me down as his huge cock enters me.

  Our gazes meet, and something flickers in his eyes.

  Awareness.

  Knowledge.

  Something else.

  Something so deep, it travels through my abdomen and settles in a deep pull between my legs. As if sensing my sexual response to him, he starts to smile—the same, irritating grin he tossed at me during our first encounter. I don’t have to ask him what he’s thinking. He knows I’m attracted to him. I mean, what woman in her right mind with her panties in the right place wouldn’t be? And judging from his smug expression, he
didn’t expect anything else from me. In fact, the way he stares at my chest suggests he isn’t averse to a bit of touching either.

  His ego certainly fits the chick magnet of a car and the attitude that came with it the night we first met. The kind of attitude that comes with experience. Years of dating jerks have taught me to spot it from a mile away.

  Thank God I’m immune to whatever Kellan Boyd’s charm is. Maybe he’s used to being the center of attention, but he’s most certainly not going to flicker anywhere on my radar.

  “I like my eggs like you take them,” I say coolly.

  He doesn’t even blink. “Can I convince you to try the bacon, too? Because you strike me as a meat person.”

  And here it is again: the slightest hint of sexual innuendo accompanied by another lingering look at my chest. A tremor rides my core as I shrug, forcing myself to remain as unfazed as humanly possible. “Sure. I’d love some bacon. Make it extra greasy.”

  His brow shoots up, and his face brightens just a little bit more. “I love a woman who loves to eat,” he states with what I assume is admiration, his eyes roaming over my body again. “You have a nice body. Lots to grab and hold on to.”

  Wow.

  Talk about direct.

  I’m not even sure any woman would take ‘lots to grab’ as a compliment.

  I pull the sheets up to my chin to cover up. I even throw him a venomous look for not even trying to pretend to look away, but I don’t quite succeed. “Is there anything else?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” he says and pauses. Before I can open my mouth and ask him what the hell he wants, he continues, “Yeah, before I forget. Your friend left.”

  “She left?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yeah.” He nods. “About twenty minutes ago.”

  I regard him, stunned, my heart beating frantically against my chest. Mandy just left me here—with him? “Are you joking?”

  “Feel free to check her room.”

  A wave of something hot sprouts somewhere inside me—not the emotional kind, but the sexy kind, the kind that crawls right under my skin and makes it tingle. “Maybe I’ll do that.” I stare at him, ready to challenge him, but Kellan just laughs.

  “Okay. While you do that, make sure to be on time.”

  “For what?”

  “Breakfast. What else?” He winks at me. “It’ll be ready in fifteen. Feel free to put on some clothes…or not. I’d rather you didn’t anyway.” The irritating grin doesn’t leave his face as he turns around, calling over his shoulder, “By the way, I prefer my eggs hard, just like everything else about me.”

  He closes the door behind him.

  I swallow hard and stare at the empty space he left behind.

  Eventually, I shake my head and pull the covers over my face, groaning loudly.

  Mandy left without telling me? And what the fuck did Kellan mean by putting on some clothes…or not? I thought I had made myself clear back in NYC that I wasn’t interested in him.

  My impression of him seems to shift from one end of the spectrum to the next, just like my emotions shift from guilty awe to the desperate need to hate him. He looks like a decent but sexy kind of guy when he just smiles. But once he opens his mouth, every single thing that comes out of it seems to irk me.

  It’s like sex is the only thing he ever thinks about.

  How the fuck can someone like him focus on work long enough to make a living and drive the half a million car he does?

  Okay, I’ll admit I Googled the price tag of his Lamborghini.

  Judging from what I’ve seen so far, he’s filthy rich with a filthy mouth and even filthier morals.

  I’ve never been around a guy like him.

  Even though breakfast sounds like something I’m very much in need of, the idea of being alone with him doesn’t seem too appealing. But if I avoid him, he’ll think I’m doing it because he’s so sexy I can’t take it.

  Which is kind of the truth.

  I can’t take just how much he gets under my skin.

  Obviously, this nonsense has to stop.

  Mandy has to come back now.

  Full stop.

  Grabbing the phone from my night table, I dial her number, but the instant beep confirms I have no signal.

  Crap!

  I toss the phone onto the bed and jump up. Maybe Kellan will let me use his landline to call her, which means I’ll have to join him downstairs.

  Clutching at my toothbrush and my makeup bag, I head for the bathroom down the hall. On my way there, I peer inside Mandy’s room. Her bag’s still here; the contents of her suitcase are neatly stashed inside the wardrobe. I can’t believe she’s taken the time to unpack, as though she’s not planning on leaving today, as per our agreement.

  It still doesn’t make sense why she’d just leave without asking me to tag along.

  Unless….

  I freeze as the sudden realization hits me.

  She left so I’d get to spend time alone with Kellan…and get rid of the cobwebs between my legs.

  I know that because that’s exactly what someone like Mandy would do.

  Obviously, I’ll have to tell my idiot best friend her attempt was in vain.

  I won’t sleep with him. Full stop. I’m a woman who has morals, or at least someone who attempts to have morals.

  As soon as I step in front of the mirror, I cringe.

  My hair is a mess, and my eyes are swollen, framed by dark circles.

  I look like a ragdoll.

  Kellan didn’t seem to mind much though.

  He seems to want me, just as much as I want him. I just don’t have the faintest idea why.

  Why am I even asking myself this question?

  Whatever the answer is, I have to run from him without letting him know that I’m doing so. While I wouldn’t mind a bit of fun, my heart beats a bit too fast around him, which is never a good sign.

  I throw on yesterday’s jeans and top, run a hand through my hair, then apply some mascara and a sheer shade of red lipstick. Finally, I head out the door, confident that I can do this.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I can’t do this.

  Breathing in and out, I let my gaze brush over the kitchen, which is a manly thing decorated in lots of dark wood and expensive stainless steel.

  The kitchen is huge and probably the only modern part of the house, with its east side entirely made of glass. Outside, the woods stretch out for miles. In the distance, a lake shimmers in the bright light. Without a doubt, the place is quite the sight.

  But compared to Kellan, it’s nothing.

  He busies himself with pouring two mugs of steaming coffee and shoveling several layers of what I assume is toast onto a plate next to boiled eggs, cheese, bacon, and waffles. Next, he resumes making us an omelet as well. He takes his sweet time, which gives me plenty of opportunity to stare at the dark tips of his hair brushing the collar of his shirt. From his broad shoulders to his low-hanging jeans and cowboy boots—everything screams rural life.

  And holy hotness!

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d doubt he’s the same person from NYC who was dressed in a tailored suit and exiting the most expensive car I’ve ever seen.

  So, what’s he doing here?

  Buried deep in my thoughts, I don’t realize that he’s turned around and is now regarding me.

  “If you like the view, I’ll be happy to provide a more in-depth one,” Kellan says. The frown lodged between his stunning eyes contradicts the humor in his voice. “In fact, I’m not averse to touching either. I give and take in equal measures.”

  I can’t believe he caught me staring.

  And what’s with this guy and the sexual innuendoes?

  Heat spreads to my face. I turn around hastily, but I know he glimpsed the telltale onset of a major blush.

  “There’s nothing to like,” I mumble.

  “Sure. So you keep saying, but I bet your panties would tell a different story.”

  My breath hitch
es but only for a moment, until I remember Kellan’s only flirting. He cannot have any idea how much his statement is true.

  I cross my legs and watch him as he places two plates and coffee mugs on the table, then plops down in the chair to my right. As he does so, his leg brushes mine. I become so aware of the sudden physical contact that my breath dies in my throat and I almost jump up, my skin seared.

  “You told your friend about me,” he says.

  His statement is so sudden I look up in surprise. “What makes you say that?”

  “It’s a fact.”

  “Yes.” I take a sip of my coffee and burn my tongue in the process. “Obviously I did in case you were a creep or stalker or whatever.”

  Damn Mandy!

  Why can’t she ever keep her big mouth shut?

  Kellan gestures at my plate. It’s still in front of me, untouched. “Do you like your omelet?”

  Trying to play nice, I grab the fork and taste it. “I do.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  I incline my head. “You should. You’re a good cook.”

  “And you’re a good guest.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” I mumble. “You said you got your car repaired?”

  Thankfully, he pulls back, and I find myself able to breathe again.

  “You can’t repair a Lamborghini, Ava.” He’s looking at me like I’m completely mad for even suggesting such an outrageous thing. “I tried and then I traded it in for a new one.”

  “Ah. That makes sense,” I say dryly. “Now that you got rid of the dent, will you buy a new one if you need a tire change, too?”

  “Probably,” he says, not even picking up on my sarcasm. “And how’s your car?”

  I shrug. “Same old. Same old.”

  “Why didn’t you take the money? You could have easily had it repaired.” His gaze pierces me with such intensity, I almost flinch.

  “What?”

  “I wrote you a check,” he says slowly. “Why did you throw it back at me?”

  I flick my tongue over my lips, lost for words. His gaze is glued to my mouth, and for a moment, his eyes glaze over, as though he’s a million miles away, overtaken by the thoughts in his head.

 
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