by JM Stewart
He’d been attempting to get her to leave. Of all the days for her to show up, today he actually needed her. He needed her softness, her strength, and God help him, he needed that irritating side of her that insisted on taking care of him. And there she was, making him breakfast. It didn’t help that she looked like she belonged in his kitchen.
He drew a calming breath and chose to focus on the mundane details or he’d be taking her back in his arms. He’d gone and done far too much already this morning. “How the hell do you even know how to cook? Don’t you have servants who do that?”
She’d grown up in a mansion, the same as he had, with servants who did everything for her, including making her meals and cleaning her room. Hell, if he didn’t have Lupe, he’d be eating takeout every night. Yet Christina opened another cabinet, pulled out a large glass bowl and began cracking eggs into it. One-handed.
She tossed a laugh over her shoulder, the sound so light and musical it lit up his insides. In seconds flat, the irritation he’d tried so hard to hold on to flitted from his grasp. He couldn’t get the taste of her out of his brain or forget the way she’d pushed herself into his arms.
Damn it all to hell. He dragged a hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He shouldn’t have kissed her. She was Cade’s sister, for crying out loud. That had always made her off-limits. Never mind that he could never give her what she deserved—forever. Christina was important. She and Caden were the only family he had left now. Which meant whatever he felt for her had to be squashed.
Or so he’d always told himself. The problem was, Christina had done what she did best: She’d stood up to him. Damned if her spunk wasn’t the sexiest thing about her and he’d fucking caved to his desires like he had no self-control at all.
All kissing her had accomplished was to take his carefully erected walls, ones meant to keep her where he knew he could never lose her, and obliterated them.
Yet there she was, taking over his kitchen like she belonged in it. She had his head filling with visions. Of her, in his house, in his life, on a permanent basis. He wasn’t sure that life was meant for him. Hell, what he’d done to Jean had proven that. But right then? Christ, he wanted it.
“You’re a spoiled brat, Baz. Our cook, Mrs. Humphreys, taught me. You remember her, don’t you? She died a couple of years ago. Growing up, whenever I got bored, I’d go hang out in the kitchen with her.” As she ducked into a low cabinet to pull out a small frying pan—how she’d known Lupe kept the cookware there, he had no idea—she darted a glance over her shoulder. She arched a brow, that motherly look pinning him to his spot. “I’m assuming by your grouchiness that you haven’t eaten this morning? You get crabby when you’re tired or hungry.”
And aroused, which he was. He was hard enough to hammer nails, because he couldn’t forget the luscious press of her nipples against his chest.
His stomach tightened. Christina was a double-edged sword. He loved and hated with equal measure how well she knew him. Despite what he’d told her, he hadn’t been sleeping. He’d been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling since he’d gotten home from his father’s lawyer’s office an hour before. He’d been wishing Christina would show up and do what she did best. Namely, march her way into his apartment and mother hen him to death. Somehow, whenever she did, the care gave him a sense of completeness. It filled a need in his chest he’d been trying to deny for years. The need for a connection, a real connection, to one other person, and not the meaningless flings he’d sworn to himself once satisfied him.
Christina was one of the few people in his life who wasn’t paid to do things like this. He’d grown up with nannies and housekeepers, because his father was usually too busy with the resorts, with his women, to do much more than remind him what a constant disappoint he was. He dated unavailable women on purpose: because at the end of the day, it meant no connections. He’d seen firsthand what marriage and love did to a man. His father hadn’t been the same since his mother walked out on them twenty years ago.
More to the point, Christina did it because she cared, and it called to the deepest part of him. The part of him that had been in love with her since somewhere around college. And here she was, like a damn domestic goddess.
It didn’t help any that she’d chosen one of her pencil skirts this morning. God bless the man who’d developed the pencil skirt. Christina wore them often and she rocked them. This morning’s was simple black. The garment hugged her every blessed curve, outlining the subtle flare of her slender hips and her tight little ass. He wanted to shove that skirt to her waist and sink into her warmth. He wanted to make love to her on the counter where she cracked eggs. Then maybe in the shower or the two-person tub in the master bathroom. Or any combination of all three.
Any other time, he relegated his desire for her to other projects. In work. In running. Hell, in other women. This morning, his emotions were raw, all of them on the surface and uncontrollable. He was mad as hell, but the grief was crushing him. His father was the only family he had. His mother’s loss was a wound in his chest that would never heal. He had good and bad memories of her. The smell of her perfume when she hugged him good night. The sound of her laughter, the rare times he’d actually heard her laugh. He also remembered the pain in her eyes and the seemingly constant anger between her and his father. Now he’d lost the only parent remaining, leaving him well and truly alone.
Of all days for Christina to show up, it had to be today. He flat out didn’t have the strength to resist her. For a second there, he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to stop himself from taking her right in the goddamn kitchen, and all because she’d melted beneath the force of his kiss.
He stifled a miserable groan. Fuck, he hadn’t expected that. He’d expected her to slap him and walk out. Hell, he’d have deserved it. Treating her like that was the asshole thing to do for sure, but if he didn’t, he’d cave. Again.
“I’ll take your silence to mean you haven’t eaten yet.” Christina glanced at him again. Now busy whisking the eggs, she scowled at him and dumped them into the heated pan, filling the silence with the sound of sizzling. Then she set the bowl into the sink and pointed at the breakfast bar. “Sit.”
He glared at her but refused to budge. Damn it. She was the only one, the only woman who got to him, who made him want to confess his every damn secret. “You’re bossy, you know that?”
God help him, she was sexy doing that, too. She often stuck her nose in where nobody asked her to, but she always did so with good intentions. She had one of the biggest hearts of any woman he’d ever known.
“I’m not hungry. I’m going for a run.” He hated being rude to her. She didn’t deserve it. But if he didn’t get out of the house and now, he’d be crossing the kitchen and taking her back in his arms. The way she’d responded to him had stoked the flame in his gut to a full-body burn.
She was too important. If he did any of that, he’d lose her, and if he ever lost her…The thought made his gut ache. So he pivoted and strode toward his bedroom in search of a shirt and his running shoes. He was too damn tired for a run but too keyed up to sleep. Maybe the exercise would finally wear him out.
Christina shot a worried frown over her shoulder. “You have to eat, Baz.”
“Later.” Sebastian waved a hand behind him, rounded the corner, and shut his bedroom door, closing off the sweet sound of her voice. Two minutes later, he was dressed and striding for the front door. He’d have to remember to buy new shoes. His Nikes were getting worn out.
As he passed the kitchen, Christina shot him a puzzled frown. She stood at the sink, wrists deep in suds. “When will you be back?”
Hand on the doorknob, Sebastian halted. He clenched his teeth, determined not to turn around. Did she have any idea how much she looked and sounded like a wife right then? The thought did nothing for the tangled knot in his gut. She was the only woman he could’ve ever seen himself with. He’d decided a long time ago marriage wasn’t for him, but if ever he wanted t
o settle down, it would be with her.
“About an hour.” He pulled the door open and strode through, letting it fall shut behind him.
* * *
Six miles and forty-five minutes later, he was drenched from a mixture of sweat and rain. As usual for early spring in Seattle, the day was dreary and a sudden shower had opened up on him halfway around the city. Now the muscles in his legs had tightened, because he hadn’t stretched before he left, and the endorphins had kicked in, but the run hadn’t done a damn thing for the emotion still tangled in his chest. He was wide awake now, but still as stuck as he’d been an hour ago. His father was still dead, and he still had to figure out how to grieve for a man he didn’t know if he’d liked. A man he was positive hadn’t liked him.
To top it off, he still needed a wife. Of all the stipulations for his father to set. He could still hear the old man’s rant. They’d had the same argument at Christmastime last year. “It’s time to grow up, Sebastian.”
His only rebellion was his love life. He’d date who he wanted, when he wanted.
Entering his condo, he came to an abrupt halt at the end of the entry hallway. Christina sat at the breakfast bar, her phone in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. She’d hooked her feet on the bottom rung of the stool and crossed one endless leg over the other. Her skirt had risen up, giving him a spectacular view of the length of her sleek, taut thighs.
“I’ll call you back, Paula. Thanks for your help.” She punched a button on her phone and turned to smile at him as she set it on the counter in front of her. “Feel better?”
Did he? For that singular moment in time, her warm smile shot a dose of sunshine straight into his heart. She had eyes the color of the evergreen trees the state was named for, so bright and luminous he forgot why he ought to be irritated with her. He could get lost in those eyes.
If he could only stop staring at her legs. At five foot ten, Christina was tall for a woman, and her legs seemed to go on forever. He couldn’t stop imagining hiking up her skirt, following the length of those legs, and discovering the treasure trove between her luscious thighs. Thinking about it had his cock hardening again. She was so damned beautiful when she smiled at him. He could almost imagine he could have her.
Shit. Apparently he’d be taking a cold shower this morning.
He shot her a scowl as he strode past her, heading for his bedroom. “No. There’s an annoying brunette in my kitchen who won’t take a hint.”
As he passed, her bright smile dropped from her face. “I’m just trying to help, Baz.”
Regret tightened in his chest. Good going. Prove to her yet again that you’re just an asshole.
He paused halfway to his bedroom, caught in indecision, his gut twisting itself into knots. He loathed hurting her, but if he stopped, he was dead. If he turned around, she’d get one hell of a view. He had a tent for crying out loud.
“I need a shower.” He muttered the words, then strode for his bedroom, ripping off his clothing and scattering the floor with it on his way to the connected bathroom.
In the shower five minutes later, he turned the water to the coldest he could stand, but Christina’s kiss refused to leave his mind and the longer he stood beneath the water, the harder he became. He couldn’t forget the heady flavor of her mouth or the softness of her tongue stroking his. Christ, he had a weakness for tongue kissing, and Christina had it down to a science. The way she’d stroked the insides of his mouth made his cock twitch.
Still impossibly hard, Sebastian banged his head against the cool shower wall and gave in to the need. He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered his hands, then fisted his cock. He needed to ease the ache or he’d be hard all day. Thoughts of Christina wrapped around him like a lure, and he let himself get lost in them. The taste of her hot breath mingling with his. Her lush tits pushing into his chest, her nipples diamond hard. He yearned to know the delicious friction of them rubbing his bare skin as he pounded into her.
Mouth hanging open, breaths coming harsh and ragged, he rocked his hips into his hand. The sweet friction was delicious but not enough. Christina had roused his desire like no other woman could, and he ached for her and her alone. So he closed his eyes and envisioned burying himself deep inside of her. Her long legs wrapped around his hips. Her wet heat milking him for all he had.
The sound of her moaning his name an hour earlier filled his head, and his orgasm rushed up on him, blinding and hot. He held his breath to keep her name from leaving his lips on a desperate groan.
When he emerged from his bedroom forty minutes later, Christina waited for him in the hallway. She leaned against the wall beside his door, arms folded—which did nothing but push her breasts higher.
Sebastian stopped short, his heart hammering. “How long have you been standing there?”
More to the point, had she heard him in the shower?
“Long enough to know you take really long showers.” Her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at him. “You have to be the most infuriating man I’ve ever known, do you know that? I’m not leaving until I know you’ll be okay, because like it or not, I care about you. Caden will be here at noon. Until then, you’re stuck with me.”
She grabbed him by the wrist, pivoted, and marched into the kitchen. Too surprised and aroused by her outburst to argue, he could only manage to follow the sashay of her ass. Yeah, he loved this side of her. She wasn’t afraid of him, wasn’t afraid to push back.
Once in the kitchen, she released him and pointed a stern finger at the stool. “Now sit down and eat or so help me God I’ll tie you to a chair in the dining room.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. Damn it, he couldn’t help it. He was half tempted to refuse in order to see her do it. He wasn’t into BDSM, but he might be persuaded to try if he knew she’d be the one tying him up.
“Fine.” He chose to sit instead, because the food smelled delicious, and his stomach protested loudly. Besides, he’d done enough to her for one day. She stood beside him like a pissed off mama bear, hovering and studying his every move, no doubt because she really was worried. She’d gone through the trouble to cook. The least he could do was eat.
One bite into the omelet she’d made had him groaning with delight. “God, this is good.”
She’d made him potatoes, too, tender on the inside, crisp on the outside. The eggs were light and fluffy and cheesy. Exactly the way he liked his breakfast.
“When was the last time you ate, Baz?”
He darted a glance at her as he took a couple swallows of the orange juice on the counter. The expression on her face caught him. She looked relieved. The anger from before had gone. Instead, anxiousness creased her brow.
“I can’t help it. I worry about you.” She laid a hand against his shoulder, her palm warm through the material of his T-shirt.
His shoulders slumped, his gut sinking into his toes. How the hell did she expect him to resist her when she met his every attempt to push her off with that sweet smile?
He couldn’t. Damn it.
“I don’t know. Sometime yesterday. I skipped dinner in favor of paperwork when the hospital called.” He released a heavy sigh. “I really don’t deserve you being this nice to me. I’ve been a jerk. I’m sorry.”
Because I need you too much. The words caught on the tip of his tongue, but Sebastian swallowed them down. Needing distance, lest he tell her all that and then some, he abandoned breakfast and slid off the stool, making his way into the living room. He stopped at the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the far wall. He’d bought this place for this reason alone: the beautiful view of Elliott Bay. He’d spend hours here, mulling over the day’s problems, but today, the view did nothing to soothe his stress.
Christina made him want too much, and his father’s stipulations meant he had to marry or forfeit the company he’d spent his adult life building. He had no intention of complying, but no idea either how the hell he’d get his company back. He’d have to talk to his lawyer.
; “Today I’ll give you a pass.”
Her voice sounded behind him, full of quiet amusement and gentle sympathy. Why she always met him with her sweet disposition, he didn’t know. He didn’t deserve her.
He tossed a smile over his shoulder. “Well, I appreciate it.”
He meant that. More than he could possibly tell her.
Christina followed him into the living room, coming to stand behind him. “You don’t have to do this alone, Baz.”
The pain rose over him, constricting his chest. Her soft concern did what it always did—made him want to confide in her. Some part of his brain told him not to say the words, but as he moved to the sofa and sank, they tumbled from his mouth, unbidden. She was right. He didn’t want to be alone, and her caring heart called to the part of him that needed it. “I have so many regrets and so much anger. My whole life was about pleasing him. All I ever wanted was for him to tell me he was proud of me, to tell me he loved me, and he couldn’t. Because I reminded him of her. Nothing was ever good enough.”
He’d spent his life being his father’s greatest disappointment. He’d graduated from Harvard’s school of business at the top of his class, had earned his MBA in a year and three months, because he’d worked his ass off for it. Never mind that his father had all but given up on the resorts and he’d been the one to take the company worldwide.
“Have they read the will yet?” Christina followed, taking a seat beside him.
Her soft perfume swirled around him like a lure, something subtle and flowery and feminine. Her body heat called to him. It was all he could do not to lean over and inhale the clean, feminine scent of her hair. “I met with my father’s lawyer early this morning. My father had everything taken care of. It’s the way he handled everything, including dealing with me.”