Page 70 of Get Lost

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kelsey was as infuriating as she was sexy, and this game between them had leveled up considerably. It was only a matter of time before they fully succumbed to their obvious chemistry. Last night was just a taste, but she was still holding out. So in the meantime, Alex would enjoy the shit out of toying with her.

It was, after all, one of his favorite pastimes.

And if part of their dance involved touching one another, even if those moments might leave both of them wanting, he was all in.

His dick throbbed with too much blood flow, and his balls ached, but he’d grin and bear it for that look on Kelsey’s face. He glanced over his shoulder—yeah, that’s the one—then tried not to look too pleased with himself.

She watched him with her mouth in a tight line and her eyes narrowed angrily. Her hand no longer hovered out in front of her, holding onto an imaginary cock, but the effects of what he’d done lingered in the angry set of her jaw, the heavy way she breathed, and that sexy spark of annoyance in her eyes.

He turned back toward the bed and tugged on his boxers, carefully tucking his cock into the elastic waistband. Couldn’t parade around the villas with his boner jutting out ahead of him like a divining rod. Next, he stepped into his black chef’s pants, careful again not to jostle his swollen cock too much and upset the big guy.

Kelsey stepped past his bed and Alex froze.

While he’d been pointedly ignoring her, she’d been busy concocting a devious plan.

And now she was naked.

Dressed in nothing but a curtain of wavy, dark brown hair trailing down to her waist, and beneath that, a plump,bareass, swaying with her hips as she walked, she passed him and stepped into the bathroom without even giving him a sideways glance.

Nicely done.

Alex craned his neck so he wouldn’t miss anything. She turned as she slipped inside the attached bathroom, giving Alex an unobstructed view of the front of her body.

Alex gave a low whistle.

Kelsey smiled haughtily, then closed the door.

And with that, the proverbial ball ping-ponged back into her court. Alex might have been losing score, but the game was really starting to heat up.

Shaking his head and smiling through the pain of his engorged cock, Alex pulled his chef’s coat on, then stepped over to the floor-length mirror to give himself a once over. Satisfied, he exited into the hallway, nearly bumping into Kelsey’s friend with the cotton candy hair.

“Oh! Sorry!” She side-stepped out of the way. “Alexander, right?”

Alex smiled. “Just Alex is fine.”

“I’m Nessa. Kelsey’s roommate.” She extended her hand and Alex shook it, practically eclipsing her hand with his. She was a tiny little thing. “I mean, I guess you’re her roommate here.” She chuckled softly, taking a moment to assess him. “Well… it was nice to meet you. I guess I’ll go find Kels.”

Alex nodded toward the bedroom he shared with Kelsey. “She’s still in the shower.”

Nessa’s eyes widened, flicked up to his still-wet hair, then they narrowed suspiciously.

“We had abusymorning.” Alex raised his eyebrows as he looked at her pointedly, then said, “If you’ll excuse me.” He inclined his head and stepped past her, grinning at the shocked look on the girl’s face.

He hadn’t lied, exactly. They did have a busy morning. But showering together wasn’t part of said busyness. Yet.

Would Kelsey be pissed about the implication that they’d showered together?

He fucking hoped so.

Alex detoured into the kitchen and paused at the entry, assessing the scene before him. All signs indicated that the pastry chef had arrived, and the kitchen had been seized. He was in the process of unpacking multiple boxes and travel containers, laying things out across the countertops.

He looked up at Alex in the doorway, a bit startled, then said, “Bonjour, uh…my name is Jean-Luc Dumonde. I am from France. I come to make the wedding cake.” He smiled, motioning toward all of the stuff he’d unloaded onto the counters.

He had jet black hair, stick straight and slicked back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a snug button-up, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was nearly as broad as Alex, though slightly smaller in stature, and he definitely wasn’t what Alex had pictured. Truthfully, and this probably made Alex an asshole, the guy was way manlier than he’d ever expect of a wedding cake designing French pastry chef.

The man’s gaze fell to Alex’s clothing and his eyes widened. “Another chef?”

---