“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You have to eat something.” He started pulling things out of the refrigerator and setting them on the island.
“Why?”
“Because I said so. Go take a shower and I’ll bring you something to eat. There are clothes in the bedroom for you.”
“What do you mean there are clothes in the bedroom for me?”
“I had Kendra pick up some things for you.”
Oh, right. Kendra. The housekeeper. “I didn’t know it was a housekeeper’s job to do your shopping.”
“Kendra’s more of an assistant.”
“Ahh. And where is this elusive Kendra?”
“She’s a good assistant.”
“So?”
“So she knows that good assistants aren’t seen.”
I shook my head. Wow. Could he be any more full of himself?
“Olivia,” Colt said. “Go take a shower.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but I was too tired to fight him.
So I walked down the hall to the guest room.
As promised, the dresser drawers were now filled with t-shirts and jeans and sweaters and underwear and all kinds of other things. How the hell did Kendra know my size? I wondered, as I ran my hand through the slips of fabric. Colt must have told her, after I’d had to tell him my size earlier when I was getting my uniform.
I showered, then slipped into a t-shirt and a soft pair of pajama shorts.
A second later, Colt knocked on my bedroom door.
He was holding a bottle of water and a plate of chicken stir-fry. It smelled delicious.
I looked at him skeptically. “You made that?”
“Yes.”
“Like, you heated it up?”
“No, like I made it.” He shook his head and stepped into the room. He set the food down on the nightstand and then walked into the bathroom.
I could hear him in there, rummaging around.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
But he didn’t answer.
When he returned, he began looking around the room, opening drawers, his hands moving through the dresser, checking everything.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked again.
“Making sure there’s nothing in here you can hurt yourself with.”
He turned around and held his hand out. “Give me your bag.”
“No.”
“Give it to me, Olivia.”
“There’s nothing in there,” I said. “You took my razors at the club.”
“I want to check again.”
I picked it up and thrust it at him. “Go ahead,” I said. “Knock yourself out.”
He rummaged through my things. There wasn’t much there. He handed my bag back to me.
“Satisfied?” I asked.
The side of his mouth slid up into a grin and he let his eyes rake over my body. I was suddenly aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra, and that the shorts I was wearing, while my size, were a little too short, and hardly covered my ass.
My nipples hardened, and I could feel them poking against the sheer fabric
I liked the way he was looking at me, liked the fact that he was staring at my body and not even trying to hide it.
Kiss me.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Princess,” Colt drawled.
“You’re an ass.”
“Eat,” he said. “And go to sleep.” He turned to head for the door.
“Wait,” I said, and he turned around.
“Yeah?”
“What about… “ I licked my lips nervously. “Declan. Can you tell me where he is, give me his number or his email, whatever you found?”
“In the morning, Princess,” Cold said, his voice low. “You’ve had a long day.”
“Please,” I said.
Colt sighed. “Olivia,” he said. “You…” I felt like he wanted to say more, maybe about Declan, but then he thought better of it. “In the morning,” he said. “Eat. And go to sleep.”
And then he was gone, the door shutting behind him, leaving me alone.
I settled into bed, and picked up the stir-fry he’d made me.
It tasted just as delicious as it smelled, and I ate the whole plate hungrily.
I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
This time, there were no bad dreams.
There were no dreams at all, just the sweet relief of a deep sleep.
And when I woke up, for the first time in as long as I could remember, my first thought wasn’t Declan.
It was Colt.
**
I blinked in the sunlight that was streaming through the slats in the blinds, casting stripes of light across the comforter.
The apartment was silent—Colt must have still been sleeping. It made sense. He probably stayed up all night partying and then slept all day.
I brushed my teeth and hair, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a grey sweater made of a lightweight material that felt soft against my skin. I felt bad for Kendra, being Colt’s assistant, but I had to admit the girl had good taste, whoever she was.
I set out to the kitchen in search of coffee.
I was standing in front of Colt’s fancy-looking coffeemaker, trying to figure out how to use it, when the front door opened and Colt came walking in.
He was wearing a black t-shirt and gym shorts, his hair slightly damp with sweat, the bottom curling and sticking to his neck.
“Good morning, Princess,” he said, reaching past me into the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. He took a long sip and then held it out to me. “Thirsty?”
I shook my head. “No, thanks.” I was thirsty, but there was no way I was going to share a water bottle with him. Something about it seemed way too intimate.
Colt shrugged, then downed another long sip.
“I thought you were sleeping,” I said, in case he thought I was prowling around his house all on my own.
“I was at the gym.” He reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweaty shirt and pulled it off his body in one fluid movement.
Holy shit. Heat flooded my body as I tried not stare. His body was just so perfect that every time I saw it, it left me breathless . His torso was defined and ripped, his six-pack seemingly chiseled out of granite. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin, making him glisten. I remembered the feel of his body on top of mine, the way it had felt to run my fingers over every ridge of his abs. I looked away, but I was almost positive he caught me blushing.
“So are we going to work or what?” I asked, annoyed.
He smiled and took another long pull off the water bottle. “You seem a little feisty this morning, Princess,” he said.
“I’m not feisty.”
“Edgy.”
“I’m not edgy.”
“Cranky.”
“I’m not – “ I started, and then I realized he was just giving me a constant stream of adjectives in order to annoy me.
“Can you please let me know what time we’re leaving?” I said.
“I’m going to shower and then we’ll go.” A mental picture of him in the shower, water sliding down over his ripped body flooded my mind. But he made no effort to move, instead just leaning against the fridge, his bicep flexing. I was leaning back against the counter, and I wanted to take a step away from him, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to know he was having that kind of effect on me.