His Undercover Princess by Avery Flynn

Author:Avery Flynn
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Entangled: Indulgence
Published: 2016-05-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Elle stretched out on the bed and rolled to her side, snuggling up with Dom’s pillow. He’d gotten up half an hour ago when the sun was low in the east and she could barely open her eyes, but she could still smell him on the pillowcase—warm and tempting and better than she’d imagined he’d be. And she had a damn good imagination.

The smell and her memories weren’t as good as the real thing. She cracked her eyelids. Rumpled sheets? Check. Super-manly room in dark colors and zero throw pillows? Check. Dom? No check. She sat up and pushed the rat’s nest off her face, amazed at how a night of great sex could do serious damage to her hair. Where was he? That’s when she saw the note propped up on the bedside table.

I’LL BE RIGHT BACK. IN THE KITCHEN, MAKING BREAKFAST. WANT TO MAKE SURE YOU HAVE PLENTY OF ENERGY FOR THE DAY. DON’T MOVE. —D

Yeah, that was totally going to happen. She grabbed one of Dom’s white button-up shirts off the end of the bed and pulled it on. It came down to midthigh and smelled like him. She then hustled out of the bedroom, dying to know what Dom in the kitchen looked like. It was so unexpected for a billionaire who’d grown up wealthy and never had to make his own breakfast in his life. Was he a secret gourmand? A total newb? Did he make scrambled eggs or quiche? Dry cereal or pancakes? Was it—

She skidded to a stop outside the door to the huge gourmet kitchen. Her tongue turned to sawdust. Even wearing just his crisp dress shirt she was overdressed. He was in boxer briefs—and only boxer briefs—that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. If she’d been wearing panties they would have been toast.

“You going to stand there and ogle my ass, or are you going to help me figure out how in the hell this thing works?” He pointed at the toaster oven.

It took her a second, but she remembered how to breathe and move again. She walked into the kitchen and snuggled up behind him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and letting her fingertips slip underneath the waistband of his blue boxer briefs. God, he smelled good first thing in the morning. A girl could get used to this—she could get used to him, and she couldn’t let herself do that. She only had him until the plane left for Elskov, and if that thought wasn’t enough to snap her back to reality and step away from Dom before she fell too deep, nothing was.

Heart pounding against her ribs in pre–anxiety attack mode, she took a calming breath and came around to his side. The only thing in front of the toast was a half-empty carton of eggs. No bread. No bagels. No breakfast pizza boxes.

“What are you making?” she asked.

He punched a few buttons on the toaster oven, his nose scrunched up in frustration. Nothing happened. “Scrambled eggs.

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