Page 72 of Elicit (Decadence After Dark)

Kayne groans. “Get. A. Room.”

“Would you be joining us in that room?” Jett badgers him.

Kayne just stares, unamused. For such a domineering man in bed, he’s very reserved when presented with the opportunity. Sometimes I can’t seem to make heads or tails of him.

With no comment from Kayne, Jett swipes a cherry for himself, then adds, “You look like shit, by the way.”

Kayne responds with a low growl in his throat. I swear, I wonder if he’s part wolf at times.

“I’m going to shower.” Kayne downs his coffee, spectacularly ignoring Jett’s ridicule. “Check my office in a little bit,” he orders like a dictator.

“Will do,” Jett agrees, taking Kayne’s spot next to me, leaving just the two of us in the kitchen and the local news. Jett picks another cherry from the bowl with a wicked glint in his eye. “You have no idea what I want to do with you and this cherry.” He runs the red, heart-shaped piece of fruit along his bottom lip. “Are you wearing underwear?”

“Yes.” My cheeks flush the same dark shade of the cherry.

“That’s too bad.” Jett captures it between his teeth and licks it indecently with his tongue. At this rate, these eggs are never getting into the pan.

“I can always take my underwear off.” I play his little game. “Then sit on the counter and show you my little cherry.”

Jett swallows the cherry in one gulp. “Jesus, woman.” He leans in and kisses me, plunging his tongue straight down my throat. “I don’t just want to see your cherry.” His voice is husky. “I want to lick it and bite it and suck it and then clamp it.” He nips the tip of my tongue. “And play with it until you come.”

Holy fuck, this man and his words. You’d think after last night our bodies would need a rest, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. We can barely get enough of each other.

“I think the eggs can wait.” I place the glass bowl next to the stove so I can rip my underwear off.

“In breaking news, famed real estate mogul Easton Erickson was found dead on his luxury fishing boat yesterday morning.”

At the abrupt mention of my father’s name I jump, knocking the bowl of scrambled eggs to the ground. The glass shatters everywhere as the news story continues.“A fire claimed his life. Flames engulfed the forty-foot yacht while anchored ten miles off Great Kills Harbor in Staten Island. It has been reported Erickson and his assistant died of smoke inhalation while asleep. Dental records were needed to identify the bodies.”

I stare blankly at Jett. He doesn’t seem to be surprised by the news. “I told you I’d take care of everything,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Your monsters are dead, burned, and will soon be buried.” He picks me up and sets me on the counter, speechless. “Don’t move until I can clean this up.”

I sit there in a daze as Jett absorbs, sweeps, and mops up the runny eggs and all the shards of glass. Who is this man? Who is he really? How can he be capable of so many secretive and devious and underhanded things, and still come off professional and compassionate and sensual and caring?

“Don’t look at me like that. My mother taught me to pull my weight.” He deposits the mop back in the broom closet.

“I’m not staring at you because you can clean. I’m staring at you because I have no idea who you are.”

“You do know who I am. I’m the man who’s vowed to look after you. To protect you. Care about you.” He anchors his hand behind my neck and touches his forehead tenderly to mine.

“Why?” The question pops out before I can stop it.

“You know why. I’ve never met a woman like you, and I doubt I ever will. We’re two black pearls born of the same oyster.”

“A match?”

“A perfect match.”

“Oh god, you two are sickening.” Jenna drags herself into the kitchen. “I need coffee before I am subjected to cute.”

Jett and I break apart as Jenna shuffles around the expansive kitchen in adorable little ruffle shorts and matching tank top.

She’s one to talk about cute. Because she’s cute as a button.

“Do you want breakfast?” I ask.

“Yes, please.” She sits at the island across from us. Ever since I started tutoring her, I’ve developed an affection for her. Sort of like the sorority little I never had. I hop off the counter, turn off the TV, and make both Jenna and Jett a plate. I have my domestic moments. I place a pancake, a piece of French toast, and a few pieces of bacon on each dish, while Jett grabs the silverware. As I place a plate in front of Jenna, I gasp when I notice the angry red burns around her wrists. She immediately tucks her arms under the lip of the island.

“It’s nothing. Don’t make a big deal,” she hisses.

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