Page 15 of Mr. Wrong
Ellenore
I wokeup to the smell of coffee and a mouth between my legs.
Not a horrible way to start the day.
“Lex…” I raise myself up on my elbows to look down at him, the rest of my thoughts spinning away before I can form them into words when he slips two fingers inside me and slides his tongue up the seam of my pussy before flicking it against my clit.
After that, my arms collapse under me and forming complete sentences becomes impossible.
“Coffee’s almost ready....” he says while I’m still recovering, pressing a kiss to the inside of each of my thighs. “Are you hungry? I can make you some eggs.”
Coffee, orgasmsandeggs?
“Are you real?” I push myself up on wobbly elbows to peer down at him. Jesus, he’s even hotter than he was last night. Dark blond hair tousled and messy. 5 o’clock shadow. Sleepy eyes and a soft mouth. I don’t know if I want to dig in and refuse to leave or run away. “I mean, seriously—does this kind of stuff happen to other women on a regular basis and I’m just now—” Something about the way the sun slants through the curtainsmakes me bolt upright and he has to sit up just as fast to avoid catching a knee in the face. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know…” He frowns at me, kneeling in the center of the bed, glancing around like he’s looking for someone to tell him. “Seven. Eight.”
“Ohmygod.” I scramble to the side of the bed and snatch my phone off the nightstand. It’s dead.
I set the alarm but forgot to charge it.
I look up, panicked, to find Lex rifling through the nightstand. A few seconds later he pulls out a wristwatch. “It’s 7:45.”
“7:45?” I feel the panic fluttering in my chest drop like a shot, swell and grow until it’s churning and swinging around in my gut like a wrecking ball. I shoot around the edge of the bed, scanning the floor. “Where are my clothes?”
“In the—”
I bolt past him and out the door, stepping directly into a large living room. The curtains are pulled back, sun streaming through the window illuminating the entire space. There’s nothing here. It’s like the second he got them off of me, my clothes disappeared into thin air. Holy shit, I don’t even know where or how he got me naked. Lex the Super Villain is some sort of sexual Houdini.
I plant my feet and press a hand to my forehead. Close my eyes and force myself to breathe deeply. Think. I have roughly seventy-five minutes to get to the address Landon Trask gave me. The problem is that I’m mostly naked, my phone is dead and I have no idea where the hell I—
“Ellenore?” I open my eyes to find Lex standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing a pair of boxer briefs and a frown.
“I have to be to work by nine and I—”
“Call your boss.” When I hold up my dead phone he points to a cordless landline on one of the end tables near the couch. “Tellhim you’re running late.” He sounds so calm, so reasonable that I want to choke him. Closing the distance between us, he settles his hands on my shoulders and turns me toward him. “We’ll get your phone charged. Get you fed. It’ll be okay, just—”
I feel my breath hitch in my chest. My safety net unraveling underneath me. “I can’t.” I shake my head. “It’s my first day and my boss is a total asshole—he’ll fire me on the spot and I really need this job. I—”
“Okay.” He tips his chin, the line of his jaw tightening at my tone. “We’ll get dressed and I’ll take you to work on my bike. I can have you there in plenty of time.”
I shake my head, fast and tight. “No.” The panic is back. “No…” I can’t let him drive me to Landon Trask’s house—not when he made me sign a non-disclosure agreement the size of a telephone book. Revealing his address or that I even work for him is expressly prohibited. “I’ll call a cab. I don’t want to put you out.” I can’t order an Uber because my phone is dead. A cab is plan B. “Where are my clothes?”
He’s still frowning. I don’t know anything about one night stands but isn’t he supposed to be relieved that I’m being so easy to get rid of? Finally he sighs and drops his hands to gesture toward the kitchen. “In the dryer.”
I bolt around him, making a beeline for the kitchen area. Skirting the island, I push through a door, hoping that the room beyond it houses the laundry room. It does. Pulling my bundle of clothes out of the dryer I search them.
No underwear.
Great. Not only am I on the verge of losing my job before I even actually start it, my hot as fuck hook-up—the only one I’m probably ever going to have in my entire sad, pathetic life—is going to find my boring beige briefs under his bed or mixed in with his laundry and as soon as he sees them, he’s going to have an epicwhat the fuck was I thinkingmoment.
Trying not to think about it, I step into the kitchen to find Lex leaning against the island, cup of coffee in his hand.
As soon as I appear, he straightens and pulls my clothes out of my arms before pushing the coffee mug into my hands. “Drink it,” he says, when I open my mouth to offer up a protest.
Because I don’t know what else to do, I do what he says, taking an impatient sip of coffee, casting a quick glance around while he drops my clothes on the counter in front of him. The kitchen itself is small. Tidy. Dishes in the drainer next to the sink. Crayon drawings of dinosaurs stuck to the fridge with magnets shaped like sailboats and ladybugs. “I couldn’t find your underwear,” he says, reading my mind while he pulls my jeans from the pile and shakes them out before handing them to me. “What did you mean about your boss being an asshole?”
I set the cup down on the island in front of me and shrug. “Nothing,” I say, backpedaling a bit. “He’s just particular about how things are done.” I step into my still-damp jeans and pull them up while pretending that spending the entire daynotwearing underwear doesn’t totally mortify me.
