Shattered (Reflections Book 2) by A.L. Woods

Author:A.L. Woods [Woods, A.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-30T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I couldn’t tell you when Sean was hotter. When he had my legs slung over his shoulders and his cock plummeting into me, or right now when he stood behind a stove, spatula in hand and a deep look of concentration pulling his brows into a V.

His hair was a mussed mess of dark strands, the set of his shoulders relaxed. My eyes had been riveted on him, taking in every curve and delineation of muscle that looked hand sculpted on him. I knew construction was constant physical activity, but shit, I had accepted the stereotypical picture of a short man with a protruding beer gut and tool belt for decorative measure that was equivalent to a paper weight for a businessperson.

Sean was anything but short and anything but useless. His forearm flexed as he tested the edges of the eggs with a spatula.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so focused cooking eggs before.”

He snorted, his mouth forming into a slanted smile. “Can you cook eggs?” he asked without looking at me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever tried.” I laughed. It hadn’t taken me long to smile, the deep honest kind that he had wanted to see. Not when I was still perched up on this bar stool with a replenished mug of hot coffee and a half naked man cooking for me.

“Well, they’re easy to fuck up if you don’t watch ’em carefully,” he said, shaking the pan to reinforce his point. He shot the stack of pancakes he had set down in front of me a look. “Your pancakes are going to get cold,” he warned.

“They’re absorbing the syrup. You know that’s how I like them.”

“Ah, yes. A soggy, sweet pile of mush. Sounds great.” He chuckled, flipping the eggs over for few more seconds before he slid them onto a plate next to a mountain of bacon. He cut the heat on the stove, his lower back meeting the counter edge. If he wanted me to eat, he shouldn’t be parading around half naked while looking like that. At this angle, I had nothing but an eyeful of his defined chest that was peppered with dark hair, washboard abs and track pants that hung low enough on his hips that my gaze roved over the happy trail that descended past the waistband.

“Eat.”

The command ripped me prematurely out of my reverie. I let out a sigh of dreamy despondency, appraising the food. “Then don’t be so good looking,” I offered with a shrug, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a contemplative bite. “It’s not my fault that you’re this distracting.” I caught the intentional flex of his biceps, a wry smile testing the corners of his mouth.

“I didn’t think you’d do such a good job stroking my ego,” he said with a short shake of his head, after a breathless chuckle.

“I think by now you’ve figured out I’m excellent at stroking a lot of things.”

His brow shot north, his lips peeling back to reveal those perfectly lined teeth.

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