Combust by Holly S. Roberts

Author:Holly S. Roberts [Roberts, Holly S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Four Carat Press
Published: 2018-02-26T16:00:00+00:00

My eyes snap open the next morning. Light streams through the windows and I know immediately Melina isn’t beside me. I can’t believe I didn’t wake up when she left the bed. Fuck. I charge into the main part of the house intending to head outside naked. I don’t want my guards touching her. The smell of bacon stops me before I throw open the front door. When I near the kitchen, she’s humming softly. I round the corner and my cock appreciates the view. She’s wearing my T-shirt with her long bare legs on display. Damn, the bruises on the backs of her thighs are glorious. She turns with a spatula in hand and jumps slightly. Her smile grows slowly along with a heavy blush. She fucking lights up the room.

My insides clench.

I don’t do romance or tender feelings. I also never allow women to sleep in my bed or make me breakfast the morning after. I don’t fucking do the morning after.

“Not that I mind, but did you forget your pants?” She’s fighting another grin and all I want to do is pick her up and carry her back to bed.

I’m only naked because I thought she left. Not that my men would allow it, but I wasn’t really thinking when I ran out of the bedroom. “I would ask what you’re doing but it’s fairly obvious.” The words are tight.

Her joyful expression fades. “You’re angry.”

I’m not angry. Not exactly. I just don’t fucking know how I should react right now. I’m not good with change and this drastic change is not something I’ll ever be good at. I like routine. I like being alone. Having her in the basement was a close second to having my own space.

My gaze snaps back to hers when she speaks. “It’s the kidnapper thing, isn’t it? The kidnapper code says I can’t make breakfast. I should be tied and hidden away in the basement. I should be terrified,” she teases and her eyes twinkle. She’s laughing at me because I’m being an ass. “Am I getting close?” she asks with slightly pursed lips.

She has no idea. “I’ll grab my pants,” I say to avoid where this conversation is heading. I walk from the kitchen expecting her laughter to follow. She never does the expected and whistles instead. I fight a fucking smile.

A few minutes later, I head into the kitchen dressed in slacks and a shirt. She’s placing our breakfast on the table. There’s something entirely fucked up with this picture and I scowl. I say nothing as she serves me and then sits on the opposite side of the table. She looks down at her plate and remains quiet. Why the hell does it even bother me?

The food smells delicious, I think grumpily. “I’m not accustomed to someone cooking for me.” It’s my white flag and she takes it by handing me a plate of bacon. I enjoy cooking for myself. After I turned eighteen, Cindy cooked for me only on rare occasions.

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