Page 15 of Kyle
Ingrid was having the same problem. In the elegantly appointed shell pink room with its intricately carved pale gold furnishings, she sat on the queen Anne four poster bed and argued with herself. She had changed from her wedding finery and takena shower, spending time to admire the claw footed bath, the beautifully etched tiles.
Bypassing the bath, she settled for the shower inside the large shower stall. Now she was contemplating whether she should ignore the grumbling sound of her belly, indicating that it was time to eat something.
A glance at the Ormolu clock showed that it was scarcely eight. She was accustomed to going to bed at ten or eleven. She had brought work with her from the office but wasn't in the mood to dive into paperwork. And had shut off the voice telling her that this was supposed to be her wedding night.
"A fat lot you know." She muttered. "It's not even a wedding. Just an agreement between two adults, two adults who despise each other." Rubbing her hands up and down her bare thighs, she tried to block out the fact that for the first time she was living with a man. One who happened to be her husband. It felt weird as hell.
And she would not be having sex. A laugh escaped her at the irony of the situation and the tragic undertone. She had not been with a man in what? Closing her eyes, she tried to recall the exact date and time. A year? Her eyes popped wide open as the stark truth hit her.
"Oh, good God! Two years?" Flopping back on the cloud soft pillows, she dissolved, the mirth shaking her body and had tears running down her cheeks.
She had been abstaining for two whole years and here she was, trapped inside a gorgeous house, one that she had helped to design with an equally gorgeous man and no sex. She had to admit that it was priceless. Only her, she thought grimly. Only her. And no doubt he was in whatever suite of rooms he had chosen, pining for that bony ass actress.
Well, he was welcome to her.
She rolled over and stared up at the ornate ceiling, listening to the distant, muffled sounds of the house settling for the night. The vastness of the space only amplified her solitude, each decorative flourish a reminder of the life she was now tethered to, a life that looked beautiful from the outside but felt hollow within. Hunger gnawed at her, but pride kept her rooted to the bed, unwilling to cross paths with him in these early hours of their strange, shared existence.
Then she stiffened her spine. It is what it is, and she was certainly not going to cower inside her spectacular bedroom and starve to death. A sandwich would hit the spot. And he was sulking in his room or calling his girlfriend and complaining about her anyway.
She was certainly not going to let him bother her. As far as she was concerned, he was just a roommate. An unwelcome one, but one, nonetheless. Nothing more. With that resolve, she rose and headed towards the door.
Chapter 5
He was halfway down the curving spiral staircase when it occurred to him that he was creeping stealthily instead of walking with confidence. Hissing out a breath, he chalked this down to another offense against the irritating woman he was chained to. She had brought him to this. He was goddamned Kyle Anthony McCreary and had as much or even more right to be here. And he was going to get himself a goddamned sandwich, chips, some cold cuts or something else if he wanted to. She was holed up in that room, anyway, poring over architectural designs. What the hell did he care?
Straightening his broad shoulders, he descended the stairs with his usual grace and paused as he reached the last step. He had been so tensed and agitated that he never had time to really see the downstairs. He took the time now.
Windows, large, graceful arches of them dominated the rooms, allowing the occupants the luxury of a stunning backdrop of trees and the buildings of the city spearing upwards. It had darkened since they arrived, and the streetlights vied with the brilliance of what seemed like thousands of stars scattered over a velvety blue sky. It was an open concept, which was a very good idea as it gave the illusion of more room. To the left of the staircase there was the large living room with its huge fireplace dominating one wall. The wallpaper was a shimmering blue-green and reminded him of the ocean.
He knew that there was a fully stocked library, two offices, a theater room, laundry and mud rooms, two powder rooms, an extra space if they wanted to have live-in help and a fully-equipped gym. A townhouse to beat all, expensive but worth every penny. And suitably tailored for the young executives leaning towards having a family. Pine floors gleamed in the lights from the moon, giving it an extra shine.
Making his way to the arched doorway of a surprisingly old-fashioned kitchen, he was brought up short at the sight of the woman standing around the gleaming blue-green malachite counter. She was wearing nothing more than an oversized white t-shirt and woolen socks.
He could clearly see her profile, and he realized that she had yet to notice his presence. Probably because she was wearing earbuds, tapping her feet, and wriggling her butt to whatever she was listening to. Awareness of her slapped into him and left him staggering. The shirt came to mid-thigh, leaving the rest of her bare except her feet. Her skin glowed in the lights from overhead. She was chopping up lettuce and tomatoes for what looked like a sandwich. Her hair was piled in one untidy heap on top of her head.
The scent of her, sharp and tangy from her shower, assailed his nostrils and the hot lust curling in his belly pissed him off. He wasn't attracted to her, he told himself viciously. It's just that he hadn't been with a woman in more than three weeks and this was the result of his abstinence. She was a woman, and he was a man. He was not dead, as made obvious by the thudding of hisheart and the aching of his loins. It could have been any woman, and the reaction would be the same. He was desperate enough to believe it.
Just as he was contemplating sneaking back upstairs and going to bed starving, she turned.
She caught sight of him, her eyes widening in surprise before narrowing with wary calculation. The music continued to pulse in her ears, but she yanked out one earbud and fixed him with a steady look, not bothering to hide her annoyance at the interruption. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence stretching between them alongside the sharp scent of tomatoes and the distant hum of city traffic. But then she raised her chin, offering him a nod that was equal parts challenge and invitation, as if daring him to claim his piece of the kitchen or retreat.
"I, er," he cleared his throat and after taking one look at the wide nipples delineated through the thin material, he kept his eyes on her face. "I was hungry."
It pissed him off that he was explaining himself to her and tried to assert his authority. "I have a damn right to be here as much as you do."
All she offered in response was the lifting of one tapered brow and went back to her chopping. "There's enough for two."
Her cultured voice was cool, making him feel gauche and stupid.
What the hell was wrong with him? Every time he was around her, he felt like an awkward schoolboy facing the cheerleader with no idea what to say to her. Hissing out a breath, he marched into the mile-wide kitchen and went for the double-sided fridge. Yanking the door open, he grabbed a drink at random. Iced tea. Shit. He hated the damn thing and now was stuck with it. Twisting off the cap, he crossed to the counter and sat down. He was damned if she was going to run him off.
"What kind?"
"Huh?"
She looked up at him as if just noticing he was still there. The woman was behaving as if he was invisible. Damn her.
"The sandwich."
