Page 7 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

Which isn’t difficult.

I’ve never had a problem getting it up and keeping it there, not with as often as I think about Rachel.

Since I’ve continued the Sunday morning pre-church pancake tradition Mom and Dad started when I was a kid, I might as well combine the two and give my subscribers some early morning entertainment. Nothing like cracking eggs and whisking batter with a boner to get them worked up and totally make their day.

My foot barely crosses from the living room into the kitchen when the front door flies open and slams back against the stopper.

Crap.

“Oh, good! You’re up.” Rachel sails in with that caramel hair streaming behind her, a grin on her face, and her attention focused on the two massive coffee mugs balanced precariously in one hand while she slips the key into her pocket with the other. She kicks the door closed behind her with one foot. “I made you a latte. I still don’t understand why you didn’t get the machine that makes the specialty drinks. Seems like such a waste to have one that only makes normal coffee. Blech.”

So much for making naked pancakes today.

Maybe giving Rach a key was a bad idea—especially since I apparently can’t even hear her putting it in the lock.

A little warning would be nice.

She hasn’t walked in on me doing one of my performances, but if she had come another minute or two later this morning, it would be a hard one to explain.

Literally.

The viewers will just have to wait for another show. Rach cock-blocked them without even knowing it. But seeing her instantly puts me in a better mood.

I grin, watching her struggle to keep the mugs level. “Because you have one. Why would I need to spend the money?”

Her green eyes dart up and land on me, and she freezes mid-step, coffee held out to me. Her gaze trails up and down my wet body, and I bite back a chuckle. At least it’s good to know she appreciates how hard I work in the gym to keep this body, even if she’ll never get to experience it.

I set the laptop onto the counter and take one of the mugs from her outstretched hand. “Thank you.” I glance down at myself. Walking around the house almost naked is usually reserved for times I know I’ll be alone…or with my online friends only. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

Rachel isn’t exactly a morning person. I don’t know how she manages to make it to school by seven every morning to deal with all those kids. Seriously, kindergarten teachers are saints. And when she’s not forced from under the covers at the ass-crack of dawn, she usually sleeps until at least nine on the weekends, so being up and going this early is definitely unusual.

And the way she’s practically vibrating suggests she’s already had at least one latte.

What got her up so early?

She shakes her head and seems to snap out of whatever trance she’s in.

It’s too bad I caught the flash of attraction there because if I hadn’t, it might make it a little bit easier to accept the fact that I can never have her. I’m old and wise enough to know attraction isn’t enough. And it’s not worth the possible fallout.

I run my free hand back through my wet hair. “I was just going to make pancakes. Want some?”

She licks her plump, pink lips and nods slowly, her eyes glazing over slightly. “Yes, I definitely want some.”

Was that a reference to me or the pancakes?

My body can’t seem to tell, and something stirs between my legs that will make things very uncomfortable between us if she notices.

Stop, Flynn.

She’s talking about the pancakes.

Don’t read into her comment.

I narrow my eyes on her as I take a sip of the latte. French Vanilla. My favorite. Of course, she knows that. She knows everything about me. Well…except for what I do online and that I’m a closeted freak in bed.

Awkward.

“I’m going to put on some clothes.” It’s the only way to remove myself from temptation and to keep the ever-growing hard-on I have from springing out from the towel to say good morning to her. “If you want to start mixing the batter, you know where everything is.”

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