Page 58 of Arrogant Bastard

“Where are my clothes?”

“I put them in the laundry in my dressing room.”

I frown. “Why?” I’ve never seen him pick up after himself, let alone after me. The times in between assignments, when we were at his Malibu mansion, Debbie, his housekeeper, slavishly looked after him. The other times, it fell to me, or whatever manpower our roles allowed, to cater to his messiness. When I had to do it, I didn’t mind. It was the tiny bit of my old life I couldn’t and didn’t want to shed.

He shrugs now. “It’s no big deal.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. He sighs, takes my hand, and tugs me out of bed. Together, we walk into his dressing room. Only it’s not just his things hanging up in the closet and stacked up on the shelves. A good selection of my clothes is neatly piled next to his.

His arms slide around me, and he lays his chin on my head. “Don’t hate me, but I just wanted to see your things next to mine, the way we used to have them.”

My breath shudders out of me. “Killian…”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, baby. They’re just clothes,” he says in my ear.

I turn in his arms and look into his eyes. “They’re not just clothes. And you know it.” He’s playing dirty, sinking his claws into me.

He looks unrepentant. “They’re here now. And you’ll be sleeping in my bed now, so it makes sense. And it saves Mitch from getting his eyes ripped out if he accidentally catches sight of your gorgeous bare ass.”

He throws the joke out but his gaze is watchful. I can fight him and insist my clothes are returned to my room, or I can let it go. I’ve already spent the night in his bed. I intend to spend a few more while we grapple with whatever it is we’re dealing with. When the time comes for me to leave, I won’t be taking my clothes with me anyway. The only things I’ll need are the clothes on my back, and my box.

The thought of the box, and everything it entails for me, puts things into perspective. “Okay, you win this round,” I concede.

His eyes narrow warily. “What’s it going to cost me?”

I turn around and head for the stack of casual clothes. I select a dark gray sleeveless tunic dress that falls to mid-thigh and pull it on. “A drink on the roof tonight.”

“Deal.”

I open a drawer to look for my panties and find his designer-labeled boxers instead.

“Over here.” His hand on my waist guides me to a similar set of drawers two closets over. He pulls it open, plucks a pair of peach lace panties from among the pile of lingerie, and almost reluctantly hands them over. “I love taking them off you, but I won’t mind if you don’t wear them at all.”

“Let’s not get poor Mitch’s eyes into trouble with an accidental flashing, shall we?”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Touché.”

I finish dressing and while I pull a brush through my hair, Killian tugs on a powder-blue T-shirt that does incredible things to his eyes. I can’t help myself; I ogle him through the mirror until he catches my eye.

“You keep looking at me like that, baby, and we’ll never make it out of the bedroom.”

The front door buzzer sounds, and that takes care of that. Killian looks almost regretful and a little irritated by the interruption. But we leave the room. Since Mitch is waiting at the door, Killian goes to let him in while I head to the kitchen.

They enter a minute later, and the bodyguard-slash-chef is holding a grocery bag that contains French bread, among other things I can’t see.

“Morning, ma’am.”

“Hey, Mitch.” I slide the second cup of coffee I poured to Killian. He accepts with a smile and a peculiar light in his eyes. I realize I’m sliding into old habits and mentally kick myself.

“What can I get you to eat?” Mitch asks as he ties the apron around his waist.

“Scrambled eggs is fine.”

“Or eggs Benedict with a waffle on the side with strawberries and cream on top?” Killian suggests.

I salivate as I glance from him to Mitch. The burly man, who should look out of place in the kitchen but weirdly doesn’t, nods. “It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll have the same, thanks,” Killian says.

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