brush all day.
“Hot crud, you scared the bejeezuss out of me!” Krista yelled as she placed her hand over her frantically beating heart.
Kade stood frozen, no part of him moving after he caught the brush, but his eyes. They were running up and down her body, trying to take it all in. From her bright orange painted toe nails, up her tan shapely legs…to the hem of that, oh so very short robe, which barely covered her hips…up to her chest, to the vee of her robe parting with the rise and fall of her breathing, exposing hints of the full curves of her breasts…up her slender neck, to those full lips which were slightly parted…and finally hitting her too large eyes as she stared at him in shock. He couldn’t move, knowing that if he took a step toward her, he would grab her up, and toss her on her bed. He wanted—damn! He wanted to rip that robe off and worship her little sexy body.
“You need better locks on your door,” he growled instead.
“W-what?” she stuttered.
“It took me less than a minute to pick your lock.”
“You picked my lock?”
“Yeah.”
“You broke into my house?” Krista asked him, a little louder, as she took a step back.
“I knocked, you didn’t answer.”
“So you picked my lock?”
“Yeah.”
“You broke into my house?” Krista knew she was repeating herself.
“I pounded on your damn door. You did not answer. I heard music. I didn’t know if you were still sick, or hurt, or if you just couldn’t hear me.”
“So you just took it upon yourself to break into my house?”
“Yeah.”
“Irish, you can’t just go around breaking into people’s houses. It’s against the law!”
“Get dressed,” Kade grumbled instead of telling her to take the robe off, which was what he really wanted to say. “Now.” He finished with clenched teeth.
Krista looked down at herself, remembering what little she had on. “Oh,” she said, still a little shocked. Turning to walk into her room to do just that, she stopped at the doorway to look back at Kade. “Uh, make yourself at home. I guess.” As if he hadn’t already.
Kade turned and walked the two steps back into her living room. Looking around, he finally took time to really see, or at least what little there was to see. Along with the small beige and blue plaid loveseat, which looked to be at least ten years old—and used hard every day of those ten years—there was one wood-like end table, probably constructed in the 70s, and a gold lamp with a red shade. At the corner of the table, there sat the ugliest green side chair he’d ever laid eyes on. That was it. No knick-knacks, no pictures, and no girly shit that most of the women he knew had filling up their places. Not even a television. In fact, the only thing he saw that was remotely nice were the curtains hanging up at the one lonely window. Though they were simple light blue drapes with white lace trim and tied back with what looked like the same lace, they seemed to be brand new. Walking into the kitchen, he saw there was a short bar separating the two rooms with a small shelf stereo sitting on it. Kade knew the kitchen was small, but now he could see just how tiny it was. Not even big enough for a table. On one wall was a gold stove. Damn, how old was that thing? On each side of the ancient stove were floor to ceiling, white tin cabinets, and on the opposite wall was an icebox. Damn thing was so old, you couldn’t call it a refrigerator. It was the kind with one door you had to open just to get to the tiny freezer inside.
Right beside that was the back entrance. Kade walked over to check the locks on that door. “Son-of-a-bitch.” The damn back door didn’t even have a lock. Just a block of wood wedged up under it.
Krista slipped on her T-shirt and pulled on her leggings, wondering the whole time what Kade was doing at her house. She walked out of her room only to find him studying her back door. That size man, standing in her kitchen, was making the
“Hot crud, you scared the bejeezuss out of me!” Krista yelled as she placed her hand over her frantically beating heart.
Kade stood frozen, no part of him moving after he caught the brush, but his eyes. They were running up and down her body, trying to take it all in. From her bright orange painted toe nails, up her tan shapely legs…to the hem of that, oh so very short robe, which barely covered her hips…up to her chest, to the vee of her robe parting with the rise and fall of her breathing, exposing hints of the full curves of her breasts…up her slender neck, to those full lips which were slightly parted…and finally hitting her too large eyes as she stared at him in shock. He couldn’t move, knowing that if he took a step toward her, he would grab her up, and toss her on her bed. He wanted—damn! He wanted to rip that robe off and worship her little sexy body.
“You need better locks on your door,” he growled instead.
“W-what?” she stuttered.
“It took me less than a minute to pick your lock.”
“You picked my lock?”
“Yeah.”
“You broke into my house?” Krista asked him, a little louder, as she took a step back.
“I knocked, you didn’t answer.”
“So you picked my lock?”
“Yeah.”
“You broke into my house?” Krista knew she was repeating herself.
“I pounded on your damn door. You did not answer. I heard music. I didn’t know if you were still sick, or hurt, or if you just couldn’t hear me.”
“So you just took it upon yourself to break into my house?”
“Yeah.”
“Irish, you can’t just go around breaking into people’s houses. It’s against the law!”
“Get dressed,” Kade grumbled instead of telling her to take the robe off, which was what he really wanted to say. “Now.” He finished with clenched teeth.
Krista looked down at herself, remembering what little she had on. “Oh,” she said, still a little shocked. Turning to walk into her room to do just that, she stopped at the doorway to look back at Kade. “Uh, make yourself at home. I guess.” As if he hadn’t already.
Kade turned and walked the two steps back into her living room. Looking around, he finally took time to really see, or at least what little there was to see. Along with the small beige and blue plaid loveseat, which looked to be at least ten years old—and used hard every day of those ten years—there was one wood-like end table, probably constructed in the 70s, and a gold lamp with a red shade. At the corner of the table, there sat the ugliest green side chair he’d ever laid eyes on. That was it. No knick-knacks, no pictures, and no girly shit that most of the women he knew had filling up their places. Not even a television. In fact, the only thing he saw that was remotely nice were the curtains hanging up at the one lonely window. Though they were simple light blue drapes with white lace trim and tied back with what looked like the same lace, they seemed to be brand new. Walking into the kitchen, he saw there was a short bar separating the two rooms with a small shelf stereo sitting on it. Kade knew the kitchen was small, but now he could see just how tiny it was. Not even big enough for a table. On one wall was a gold stove. Damn, how old was that thing? On each side of the ancient stove were floor to ceiling, white tin cabinets, and on the opposite wall was an icebox. Damn thing was so old, you couldn’t call it a refrigerator. It was the kind with one door you had to open just to get to the tiny freezer inside.
Right beside that was the back entrance. Kade walked over to check the locks on that door. “Son-of-a-bitch.” The damn back door didn’t even have a lock. Just a block of wood wedged up under it.
Krista slipped on her T-shirt and pulled on her leggings, wondering the whole time what Kade was doing at her house. She walked out of her room only to find him studying her back door. That size man, standing in her kitchen, was making the
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