Page 30 of Beautiful Distraction

That was the question that bothered me immediately after Icame. Even if he heard me, why shouldn’t I consider it only fair that he beembarrassed too? After all, fair is fair.

Why am I even pondering over what can’t be changed now?

Because he can’t possibly know.

I need to pushthis memory to the back of my mind—deny it, bury it deep inside mysubconscious, so that not even a Freud follower could extract it. I’m going tolie to myself until the lie becomes the truth. How hard can that be?

Until then, it’s going to be my secret.

My terrible, hot…hot…hot secret.

Oh, God.

No one has a cock like Kellan: big, engorged, perfect in itssize and thickness.

No one redefines jerking off the way he does. He’s thereinvention of holy hotness.

I’m such a lost cause. If Sigmund Freud were still alive, Iknow what he’d tell me, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Everything okay? You look a little flustered,” Kellanremarks.

“Yeah. I just had a—”

Bad dream, Iwanted to say, but I can’t, because then I would have to lie and claim thedream was most certainly not about him, nor about his gift of a manhood to thefemale population.

“You had what?” Kellan prompts.

“I just couldn’t—”

Sleep.

What the hell!

I can’t say that either because he might think that I heardhim. If he so much as catches a whiff of the idea that I sneaked around lastnight, I’m so going down. Big and fast—like the way he pumped into hispalm.

Shit.

The wordsbigandfastare making me horny.

“Mmmh.” Kellan nods as though he totally gets me, which I’msure he doesn’t. “So, you slept well? The fresh country air must have knockedyou out.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I slept like a stone. No, make that aboulder.” What the fuck am I saying? That doesn’t make any sense. I let out anervous laugh. Heat rolls over my body in thick, fast waves, and the tenderspot between my legs begins to pulsate again. I need to get this guy out of mybedroom. “Thanks for letting us stay the night.”

“No problem.” He leans against the doorframe and regards me,amused. “It’s nice to have company. Your friend told me a bit about you afteryou left.”

Judging from Kellan’s grin, Mandy’s revealed all the crappydetails of my failed love life and all the embarrassing, cringe-worthyincidents that came with it.

I’m all for honesty, just not to a hot guy.

Glaring at Kellan, I pray to God she’s kept her mouth shutfor a change.

If she didn’t, I know I’ll have to kill her and dump herbody, and I’m not sure I have the guts for it.

The only reason I’m not taking the bait and asking whatexactly she said is because I really need him to leave.

“I’m making breakfast,” Kellan says casually. His gazeslides over me, from my tousled hair down to my breasts almost spilling out ofmy bra and the not exactly matching but comfortable panties I thought were finefor a road trip. My heavier bag is still in my car, as finding my way aroundthis place at two a.m. didn’t seem like such a good idea. Besides, I didn’tfeel like dragging the thing through the mud all by myself again, so I had noother option but to sleep in yesterday’s underwear. To my mortification,Kellan’s gaze remains glued to the way the silk panties seem to stick to myhips and ass. “How do you like your eggs?”

The question is harmless enough.

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