Page 70 of Living on the Edge

“We didn’t even last a week, much less a few more of them,” he says, inching closer.

“If this is some awkward attempt at seduction, I have to warn you—I haven’t showered in more than forty-eight hours and my hair is greasier than it looks.”

His eyes turn to liquid fire, a storm brewing within them that’s a cross between annoyance and unbridled lust. It’s so intense I almost want to back away, but there’s nowhere for me to go since I’m still on the bed, and anyway, I’m not scared of him. Not much.

“Sweetheart, I don’t have an awkward bone in my body when it comes to seduction.” He leans over, putting one hand on either side of me. “And let’s be clear—your hair is what I love most about you—other than that sassy mouth and the way you put me in my place when I piss you off.”

He leans so close I swear he’s going to kiss me, but then he backs up and smiles. “You do need a shower, though. So how about we eat breakfast and then shower?”

I can’t tell if he intends to shower with me or for me to do it alone, and I’m not sure which I prefer.

“Wh-what’s for breakfast?” I try to ask as casually as possible, like my heart isn’t thundering against my ribs.

“Sausage, egg, and cheese bagels, breakfast potatoes, and hot chocolate. The coffee machine was broken.” He proffers a paper cup and I slowly get to my feet.

“Uh, bathroom first.”

I practically run in, closing the door behind me.

I don’t know what’s happening.

Is he trying to get me into bed again?

Do I want him to?

Well, duh.

What red-blooded woman wouldn’t want to get horizontal with Angus freakin’ Jeffries? Especially now that I know how good he is at the sex thing?

I brush my teeth and attempt to drag a comb through my thick hair, pulling it back in another ponytail. I desperately need to wash it. I desperately need to wash all of myself, but I’m hungry. Now that I’m feeling human again, I can start worrying about hygiene.

When I walk back into the room, Angus is sitting at the little desk eating. He turns to me, motioning to where he put my food next to the bed.

“Thanks.” I sit on the bed cross-legged and put a pillow on my lap to support the food. I take a bite of the sandwich and sigh happily. “Yum.”

“Not the healthiest, but after the last few days, you could eat something hearty. I was thinking if you’re up to it, we could go out to dinner. There are some great restaurants in St. Louis.”

I freeze.

I’m really not sure what to do. I’m at war with myself, trying to ascertain what he wants and how much I’m willing to put up with for an orgasm. Or two.

The thing is, I’m not reallyputting upwith anything.

He’s sweet and attentive, if not a little overbearing. He’s charming in his own grumpy, alpha way, and when we’re not arguing, I truly enjoy our conversations. Hell, I enjoy our arguments too. When his eyes go all dark and stormy. Just like when he was fucking me.

There’s more to this guy than meets the eye, and I wish he’d let me in. Let me get close enough to see who the real Angus/August is. The problem, of course, could be that he doesn’t know himself.

“We could go out,” I say. “I don’t think I’m up for a long walk, but I’ll manage if we Uber.”

“I rented a car so we can get out of here first thing tomorrow. I picked it up this morning and got breakfast on the way here.”

“Oh. Then, yes, let’s go out. Where did you have in mind?”

“Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.”

“I know a place.” He grins, and I can’t help but get caught up in the excitement.

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