And when I turn, it’s like someone sucker-punched me with sunlight. Mia’s standing in the doorway, barefoot, eyes wide, lips parted, frozen like she’s stumbled into something forbidden. And judging by the look on her face, I might as well be standing here stark naked.
Her gaze drags over me—slow, stunned—and my skin damn near burns under it. She's wearing a simple T-shirt and barely there shorts, her long brown hair pulled back in a messy bun. Even half-asleep, she'sbreathtaking.
I see the exact moment her eyes land on my abs, the flush that spreads up her throat like wildfire, and fuck if that doesn’t go straight to my dick.
I lean casually on the counter, giving her time to take in the scenery—and because hell, I’m enjoying this way too much.
“Like what you see darlin’?” I ask, letting the drawl roll off my tongue nice and slow.
She snaps her head up, chin high. “Meh.”
I quirk a brow.
She waves vaguely in my direction. “I’ve seen better. Gordon Ramsay, for instance. Fully clothed and less smug.”
That makes me grin—slow, lazy, cocky. The kind of grin that usually gets me into trouble. “Uh-huh.”
She’s flustered. Trying hard to pretend she’s not, but I can see it in the way she won’t quite meet my eyes, the way she lingers anyway.
I crack eggs into a bowl. My shoulder gives a dull throb as I reach for the pepper grinder, but I ignore the sting down my arm.
“Coffee?” I offer, gesturing to the pot I've already brewed.
She blinks, seeming to remember herself. “Yes. Please.”
I pour her a mug and slide it across the counter, deliberately flexing as I move. Her eyes track the motion. I catch the moment her eyes snag on the ink winding up my arm—bold black lines that climb my bicep and curl over my shoulder, like a secret map she wants to read.
A slow, knowing satisfaction coils low in my gut.
Yeah. She likes what she sees.
And hell if I’m not already thinking of ways to give her a closer look.
“Sorry I got called away from dinner last night. I was enjoying Lily’s tragic attempt to make boxed mac and cheese taste ‘gourmet’.” I chuckle.
She shrugs, taking a sip from her mug, hiding those gorgeous lips from my view.
“A calf ran loose on the south line, again. Damn thing’s more escape artist than livestock.” I say shaking my head, before looking at Mia.
“Sleep well?” I ask, turning the dial on the stove.
“Better than expected,” she admits, taking a sip of coffee. “This guest room is nicer than many hotels I've stayed in.”
“Taylor hospitality,” I reply with a wink. “We aim to please, ma’am.”
Her eyebrows rise slightly. “Is walking around half-naked part of that hospitality?”
I hold her gaze as I pour the eggs into the hot pan. “Only for special guests.” I say, enjoying the flush creeping up her neck as I reach for the spices.
“Besides, it's my house, my rules.” My gaze trail down her body “I can dress—or undress,” my eyes raking down her body “however I want.” I say with a smirk.
“Oh..well…um..fair enough.” Her throat bobs and she shifts on her feet, her voice lower, sounding rough around the edges now, like watching me’s gone and dried out her throat.
She shifts her weight again, leaning into the counter, eyes dragging over my bare torso and the flex of my arm as I cook. “You're good at that.”
“Being half naked? Yeah, I know” I nod and shoot her a wink, the faint blush blooms across her cheeks like I’ve just lit a match.
She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch. “Cooking”
