‘Fried eggs.’ he says around a finger, blatantly trying to suppress a grin.
I look down at my naked form. I might have to get dressed if he wants fried anything. Looking back up to him, I find he has lost the battle and is grinning, his face delighted. ‘I’ll cook yours, if you cook mine.’ I run my eyes down his naked chest and raise my eyebrows.
He pulls his finger out. ‘Savage.’
Both of our heads snap towards the kitchen archway when we hear the front door opening. I flick my wide eyes back to Jesse who has a finger suspended in mid-air on its way to his mouth. He is looking as equally who-the-fuck?
Jumping up, he knocks his jar of peanut butter flying off the island, sending it crashing to the floor. It smashes, scattering glass everywhere. I’m panicking now.
‘Fucking hell!’ He looks at me, all wide eyed. ‘It’s Cathy!’
Oh good God help me!
I ripped her head off last night and now I’m going to flash her! And to top it off, her burnt lasagna is sat on the side, bold as brass. She’s going to hate me. There is no way out of this kitchen without going towards the source of our distress. I stare at Jesse. He’s frozen on the spot, looking as torn as I am. Cathy probably won’t mind copping a load of him. I smile, but then snap back to the here and now. I finish ogling my finely tuned man and peg it across the kitchen.
‘Shit!’ A stab of pain shoots through my foot. ‘Ouch ouch ouch!’ I carry on my way, ignoring the pain.
Jesse is not far behind me, laughing uncontrollably as we run up the stairs. ‘Mouth!’ he splutters and smacks my arse.
‘Goodness gracious!’
I hear the distressed voice as we reach the top. Oh, what must we look like? I run full pelt to the bedroom and throw myself under the covers. I’m mortified. I’ll never be able to look her in the eye again.
I feel Jesse land on the bed. ‘Where are you?’ He works his way through the covers until he locates me with my head buried in the pillow. ‘There you are.’ He flips me over and submerges his face in my br**sts. ‘You’ve upset the concierge, and now you’ve really upset my housekeeper.’
‘Don’t!’ I throw my arms over my face in complete despair.
He laughs. ‘Let me see your foot.’ He shifts himself onto his heels and clasps my foot in his hand.
‘It hurts.’ I complain when I feel his fingertip run lightly over my heel.
‘Baby, you’ve got a piece of glass stuck.’ He kisses the heel of my foot and jumps up from the bed. ‘Tweezers?’
I throw one arm off my face and point to the bathroom. ‘Make-up bag.’ I grumble. I can’t believe I’ve just flashed Jesse’s housekeeper. This is horrible – mortifying. I need a dressing gown.
I feel the bed sink under his weight again and he clasps my foot. ‘Hold still.’ he instructs softly.
I hold my breath and reposition my arms so my palms are flat on my burning red face, but all embarrassment is momentarily eliminated when I feel the warm wetness of his tongue dragging up my instep, licking the trail of blood away. I shiver under his tongue’s stroke and remove my hands to look down at him, shifting a little, my thighs tightening. He smiles knowingly, his eyes sparkling, before he wraps his lips around the offending shard.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m getting it out.’ he says against my heel. He sucks on my heel and pulls away before taking the tweezers and getting up close and personal with the heel of my foot.
I grin as I watch his concentration frown appear across his brow.
‘There.’ He kisses my foot and releases it. It was pretty pain free, actually. ‘What are you grinning at?’ He looks at me in amusement.
‘Your frown line.’
‘I don’t have a frown line.’ He’s offended.
‘You do.’
He crawls up the bed and lays himself over me. ‘Miss O’Shea, are you saying I have wrinkles?’
My grin widens. ‘No. It only pops up when you’re concentrating, or if you’re concerned.’
‘It does?’
‘It does.’
‘Oh.’ He frowns. ‘Is it there now?’
I laugh and he bites my boob, sending me on a little buck under him.
‘Get ready.’ He lands me with a hard kiss. ‘I’ll go and see if Cathy’s run out screaming.’
My laughing abates at the reminder of Jesse’s poor housekeeper, who has just copped a load of my bare arse. ‘Okay.’
‘I’ll see you downstairs.’ He leans back down and plants a molten lasting kiss on my mouth. ‘Don’t be long.’
‘I won’t.’ I grumble, like the sulky little girl that I am.
He jumps up and pulls on a pair of checkered lounge pants, and then leaves me so he can go and placate his housekeeper.
I distract myself from my despair by having a shower and getting myself ready, slipping on a floral tea dress – probably too short – and my flat sandals. I pull my hair up into a ponytail. I’ll do.
As I walk into the kitchen like a timid waif, all fidgety and nervous, Jesse looks up from his salmon and scrambled egg bagel and gives me one of my smiles. His bare chest distracts me fleetingly from my embarrassment, and I don’t miss his slight scowl when he registers the length of my dress. I ignore him.
‘Here she is. Cathy this is Ava, love of my life.’ He pats the stool next him as Cathy turns around from the fridge to look at me.
My cheeks burn and I offer her a small, apologetic smile. I feel much better when I detect a red flush in her cheeks. I’ve been so worried about my own mortification, I hadn’t considered how embarrassed she might be. I take a seat next to Jesse and he pours me some orange juice.