Filed To Story: Filthy Beautiful Lies Book PDF Free by Kendall Ryan
“Did something happen at work?” I ask, helping him out of his jacket.
He tosses the garment onto the waiting bench. He does this every night and they miraculously end up freshly laundered and back in his closet. I don’t even think he realizes it.
“Sort of,” he says without meeting my eyes.
“I’m good listener. You can tell me things, you know? You can trust me,” I assure him.
“I know. But when I get home, talking about my day is usually the last thing I want to do.”
I nod. I know the feeling well. When Becca was sick, friends would encourage me to talk about it, and even though I appreciated the gesture, I knew talking about it would only bring all my worries and fears to the surface. Best to keep them locked away. So while I understood him, it made me even more curious about what could be troubling him.
“I made you dinner,” I say.
“You cooked?” he asks, his voice lifting in uncertainty.
I nod my head, feeling insecure for some strange reason. It could be the curious way he’s looking at me.
“What about Beth?”
“I sent her home.” I have no authority to release his staff, but Colton doesn’t say anything else, he just follows me into the kitchen, tugging at his tie to loosen it.
Now that he’s here in the kitchen with me, I’m fidgety. Using two pot holders, I bring the dish I’ve prepared to the kitchen island and set it down in front of him. I feel like I’m showing off an elementary school science experiment. One with very questionable results.
He looks down at it curiously before meeting my eyes. “You made me mac-n-cheese?” He grins unevenly.
I instantly feel like a fool. This man has an entire staff of servants and a personal chef. He dines on things like organic beet and arugula salad, grilled swordfish and hand fed prawns. And I just made him elbow macaroni smothered in processed American cheese. His amused expression makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.
Why did I even bother? And now I feel particularly stupid, because I’ve sent his cook home for the night. “Nevermind.” I grab the casserole dish to clear it away and his hand on my wrist stops me.
“Stop.”
“It was a stupid effort.” Wasted.
“Stop,” he says again, removing my hands from the dish. “You cooked for me.” My eyes jerk up to his, trying to make sense of the reverence in his words. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal like this – comfort food – in…a long damn time. Thank you.”
I’d misread his reaction. He’s surprised. And apparently happy. Pulling out a stool at the island, he sits down and helps himself to a heaping portion, piling a mound of macaroni in his bowl without pretense. “Do we have any milk?” he asks around a big mouthful of pasta.
I laugh at him and head to the massive fridge, and pull out a carton of organic milk to pour him a glass. I watch Colton eat two big servings of the dish, and he insists I join him. We sit side by side at the countertop, stuffing ourselves with ooey-gooey melted cheese and pasta. It actually tastes halfway decent and I’m relieved. Though if I’m being honest, it’s his reaction that makes my heart soar.
He’s instantly more light-hearted and seems to have let whatever stress was troubling him slip away.
“How are things going with Kylie? She says you’re a godsend.”
“It’s fine. Kylie’s a sweet girl and it’s exactly what I wanted – something to get me out of the house.”
“Good.” Colton digs in for another bite, seemingly satisfied with my response.
“More milk?” I ask, noticing his glass is almost empty.
He looks at it thoughtfully for a second. “Actually…which wine pairs well with mac-n-cheese? Pinot Grigio?”
I nod. “Sure. If you like.” I make a move to get up and his hand on my elbow stops me.
“Stay put. I’ll get it.”
I glance down at the casserole dish that we’ve made a rather impressive dent in, and cover it with the lid, before setting it inside the fridge.
He returns a moment later with two glasses of wine and hands me one. “Thank you for this,” he says, his voice solemn and his eyes on mine.
I nod and meet his gaze, taking a sip of wine.
Mmm. Colton Drake, wine and yummy comfort food. My day is complete.
We set our bowls in the sink and head outside to the balcony off his office, settling into the lounge chairs to sip our wine. After several minutes the wine and soundtrack of the waves relaxes me.
“What should we do now?” The sultry tone to my voice is entirely unintended, but his dark gaze finds mine and my sex muscles tighten. Eep! The hungry look in his eyes is new and unnerving.
“Come here.”
I slide off my seat and cross the few steps until I’m standing directly before him. My heart hammers unevenly in my chest and the sensuous look in his eyes has me wondering if tonight is the night. Though I’d been merely curious before, I’m now dying to know what it will feel like when he finally takes me. As strange as it sounds, it’s an invasion I would welcome. To be wrapped up in his strong arms, to feel his full lips on mine and to finally understand what all the fuss over sex is about…I shudder at the thought.
“Are you cold?” Colton’s fingertips reach out to stroke my upper arms.
I shake my head. The shivers racing along my skin have nothing to do with the temperature.
“What happened the other night…” he pauses, his tongue lazily stroking his bottom lip as his eyes burn on mine, “was that okay with you?”
I swallow the massive lump in my throat. I should have felt horribly embarrassed that he’d caught me masturbating in his shower. Yet any and all feelings of shame are absent. I feel liberated, free. And his response, to strip down and join me, his hard cock tall and proud pressing into my skin showed me that he felt the exact same way. There was something deeply comforting about that. And knowing that he knew how to pleasure my body better than I did? That was the icing on a pretty freaking awesome cake.