Double shit.
He retrieved the leather band from his jeans and stared down at it. The urge to return it to his wrist overwhelmed him. He still had a cuff on his other wrist, but it wasn’t a reminder of Sara, so it didn’t count. He’d bought that one at the mall when he was sixteen and thought it made him cool. It held no emotional significance, was just an ordinary scrap of leather. But the one he’d removed earlier possessed the ability to yank his head out of the clouds and return his feet firmly to the ground.
He hoped.
Perhaps the best thing to do was leave Dawn’s house as soon as possible. Why’d he come here anyway?
Dawn’s song. The melody played through his head, and he smiled. That song possessed a power all its own.
He wanted to hear it again. Wanted to watch her play it for him. For as jumbled and confused as Kellen’s thoughts were now, her song had given him a moment of peace and clarity. Even if it was a temporary condition, he wanted those feelings again. He needed them. Even more than he needed Sara’s reminder on his wrist.
“Coffee’s ready,” Dawn called. “How do you take it?”
Jeez, the bathroom door was thin.
Triple shit.
Had she heard him talking to himself about her hotness?
“Black!” he called, glad he’d decided against jerking one out. What if she’d heard him gasping and moaning through the door? She already suspected him of being a dangerous criminal. If she’d discovered him masturbating in her spotlessly clean bathroom, she’d have pegged him as a depraved pervert as well.
Kellen tugged a brush through his hair until it lay flat, resting against his shoulders. He hoped she didn’t mind sharing such a personal item as a hairbrush with him. Maybe it wasn’t hers and had come with the house. Kellen checked to make sure he wasn’t sporting wood again, shoved the wrist cuff into his jeans pocket, and retrieved his wet towel from the floor. He gave the cuff one last squeeze, took a deep, calming breath, and then opened the door.
The bathroom faced the kitchen, so there was no missing her. Dawn stood leaning back against the counter, sipping from a cream-colored coffee cup. There was something intensely erotic about the way she encircled the cup with both hands and brought it to her mouth as she watched him over the rim. Those hypnotic hazel eyes. All that thick red hair. That loose, white dress. Her bare feet with ten perfectly manicured hot-pink toenails peeking from beneath the hem of her long skirt. Everything about her was erotic, and she wasn’t even trying. His c**k throbbed in appreciation of her femininity.
Should have jerked one out after all.
Walking awkwardly, Kellen clutched his laundry to his waist, hoping to hide what was going on in his shorts.
Her shorts.
Fuck! Stop thinking like that, moron. You’re going to rip her shorts in half if you get any harder. How are you going to explain that to her?
Excuse me, Dawn. I seem to have damaged your shorts with my raging hard-on. Do you have something a bit hardier I could wear? Perhaps something made of thick leather or stainless steel.
“Do you want me to throw your jeans in the dryer?” she asked.
“No thanks.” He didn’t want her to discover the wrist cuff hidden in his pocket, and he needed the jeans to shield his arousal.
Dawn turned and lifted a red cup from the counter. She walked toward him and offered him the coffee. Squashing his jeans and towel against his belly with one hand, Kellen extended his free hand to accept the cup.
“Thanks,” he said. Damn, his voice sounded all gruff and slightly breathless. Was she aware of the not-so-little problem going on behind a pair of wadded-up jeans and a damp towel? Did she have any idea how much he wanted to lift her up on the counter and f**k her until he couldn’t think straight enough to feel guilty about breaking his vow to Sara?
Dawn stared into his eyes and brushed her fingers over his in a slow, sensual caress as she handed off the cup. She wasn’t making his devotion to abstinence easy, that was for sure.
A spattering of freckles graced the bridge of her nose, and thick, dark eyelashes made the green flecks in her hazel eyes stand out. He tried not to look at her pouty lips and wonder what she tasted like. Did she enjoy soft, gentle kisses or did she prefer the deep, plundering assault on her mouth that he craved? He wanted to sink his hands into all those thick, red curls, tilt her head back and… and…
Small talk! He needed to make small talk.
“So where are you from?” he asked.
She blinked and took a startled breath. Was she thinking along the same lines he was? He really needed her to be a frigid bitch at the moment, but doubted she was the type. The vibe she gave off was warm and inviting. He couldn’t remember the last timed he’d wanted to be invited into a woman’s warmth, all slick and hot and snug. His c**k throbbed with interest.
Oh, for f**k’s sake, woman. Say something. I can’t be thinking like this.
“Originally or lately?” she asked.
“Both.” Please stop looking at me like that with those exotic cat-like eyes. Kellen was used to women showing their interest in him. What he was not used to was losing control of his convictions and feeling anything in reciprocation.
“I was born in Pennsylvania, just outside Philadelphia. I’ve been in Los Angeles for several years now.”
“Do you like it there?”
She shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. “It’s not as humid as it is here. And then there is Hollywood.”
“Ah, so that’s why you moved out there.”
“The job market for classical music composers is fairly small.”
He swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Did you always want to write music for movies?”
She grinned at him. “In my rebellious years, I wrote music for video games.”
“You had rebellious years?”
She lifted her eyebrows at him, which had him picturing all sorts of naughty activities she probably had not been involved in during her rebellious years, but damn if he didn’t want to rebel with her now.
“Don’t we all?” she asked. “At least until we grow up.”
“Wait. Do you mean we’re supposed to outgrow that?”
“Are you still rebelling, Kellen?”
He chuckled. “Some would like to think that, but no, I don’t have anything to rebel against these days.” He took another drink of his coffee and then nodded toward his cup. “This is really good,” he said.
“If you think that’s good, you should try my French toast.”
He retrieved the leather band from his jeans and stared down at it. The urge to return it to his wrist overwhelmed him. He still had a cuff on his other wrist, but it wasn’t a reminder of Sara, so it didn’t count. He’d bought that one at the mall when he was sixteen and thought it made him cool. It held no emotional significance, was just an ordinary scrap of leather. But the one he’d removed earlier possessed the ability to yank his head out of the clouds and return his feet firmly to the ground.
He hoped.
Perhaps the best thing to do was leave Dawn’s house as soon as possible. Why’d he come here anyway?
Dawn’s song. The melody played through his head, and he smiled. That song possessed a power all its own.
He wanted to hear it again. Wanted to watch her play it for him. For as jumbled and confused as Kellen’s thoughts were now, her song had given him a moment of peace and clarity. Even if it was a temporary condition, he wanted those feelings again. He needed them. Even more than he needed Sara’s reminder on his wrist.
“Coffee’s ready,” Dawn called. “How do you take it?”
Jeez, the bathroom door was thin.
Triple shit.
Had she heard him talking to himself about her hotness?
“Black!” he called, glad he’d decided against jerking one out. What if she’d heard him gasping and moaning through the door? She already suspected him of being a dangerous criminal. If she’d discovered him masturbating in her spotlessly clean bathroom, she’d have pegged him as a depraved pervert as well.
Kellen tugged a brush through his hair until it lay flat, resting against his shoulders. He hoped she didn’t mind sharing such a personal item as a hairbrush with him. Maybe it wasn’t hers and had come with the house. Kellen checked to make sure he wasn’t sporting wood again, shoved the wrist cuff into his jeans pocket, and retrieved his wet towel from the floor. He gave the cuff one last squeeze, took a deep, calming breath, and then opened the door.
The bathroom faced the kitchen, so there was no missing her. Dawn stood leaning back against the counter, sipping from a cream-colored coffee cup. There was something intensely erotic about the way she encircled the cup with both hands and brought it to her mouth as she watched him over the rim. Those hypnotic hazel eyes. All that thick red hair. That loose, white dress. Her bare feet with ten perfectly manicured hot-pink toenails peeking from beneath the hem of her long skirt. Everything about her was erotic, and she wasn’t even trying. His c**k throbbed in appreciation of her femininity.
Should have jerked one out after all.
Walking awkwardly, Kellen clutched his laundry to his waist, hoping to hide what was going on in his shorts.
Her shorts.
Fuck! Stop thinking like that, moron. You’re going to rip her shorts in half if you get any harder. How are you going to explain that to her?
Excuse me, Dawn. I seem to have damaged your shorts with my raging hard-on. Do you have something a bit hardier I could wear? Perhaps something made of thick leather or stainless steel.
“Do you want me to throw your jeans in the dryer?” she asked.
“No thanks.” He didn’t want her to discover the wrist cuff hidden in his pocket, and he needed the jeans to shield his arousal.
Dawn turned and lifted a red cup from the counter. She walked toward him and offered him the coffee. Squashing his jeans and towel against his belly with one hand, Kellen extended his free hand to accept the cup.
“Thanks,” he said. Damn, his voice sounded all gruff and slightly breathless. Was she aware of the not-so-little problem going on behind a pair of wadded-up jeans and a damp towel? Did she have any idea how much he wanted to lift her up on the counter and f**k her until he couldn’t think straight enough to feel guilty about breaking his vow to Sara?
Dawn stared into his eyes and brushed her fingers over his in a slow, sensual caress as she handed off the cup. She wasn’t making his devotion to abstinence easy, that was for sure.
A spattering of freckles graced the bridge of her nose, and thick, dark eyelashes made the green flecks in her hazel eyes stand out. He tried not to look at her pouty lips and wonder what she tasted like. Did she enjoy soft, gentle kisses or did she prefer the deep, plundering assault on her mouth that he craved? He wanted to sink his hands into all those thick, red curls, tilt her head back and… and…
Small talk! He needed to make small talk.
“So where are you from?” he asked.
She blinked and took a startled breath. Was she thinking along the same lines he was? He really needed her to be a frigid bitch at the moment, but doubted she was the type. The vibe she gave off was warm and inviting. He couldn’t remember the last timed he’d wanted to be invited into a woman’s warmth, all slick and hot and snug. His c**k throbbed with interest.
Oh, for f**k’s sake, woman. Say something. I can’t be thinking like this.
“Originally or lately?” she asked.
“Both.” Please stop looking at me like that with those exotic cat-like eyes. Kellen was used to women showing their interest in him. What he was not used to was losing control of his convictions and feeling anything in reciprocation.
“I was born in Pennsylvania, just outside Philadelphia. I’ve been in Los Angeles for several years now.”
“Do you like it there?”
She shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. “It’s not as humid as it is here. And then there is Hollywood.”
“Ah, so that’s why you moved out there.”
“The job market for classical music composers is fairly small.”
He swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Did you always want to write music for movies?”
She grinned at him. “In my rebellious years, I wrote music for video games.”
“You had rebellious years?”
She lifted her eyebrows at him, which had him picturing all sorts of naughty activities she probably had not been involved in during her rebellious years, but damn if he didn’t want to rebel with her now.
“Don’t we all?” she asked. “At least until we grow up.”
“Wait. Do you mean we’re supposed to outgrow that?”
“Are you still rebelling, Kellen?”
He chuckled. “Some would like to think that, but no, I don’t have anything to rebel against these days.” He took another drink of his coffee and then nodded toward his cup. “This is really good,” he said.
“If you think that’s good, you should try my French toast.”
