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“Luck. Pure and simple.” I motion for him to explain. “Jeremy was my roommate at college. When he developed his first app, he asked me for a loan to market it. I gave him my tuition money and the rest is history.”
“I agree luck was involved, but you’re a smart person. You wouldn’t have loaned Jeremy the money if you didn’t believe in him.”
“I’m a smart person.” He preens.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t gloat. It’s unbecoming.”
“I happen to know you find me incredibly becoming.”
“Only because you’re good at giving orgasms.”
He barks out a laugh. “I never know what you’re going to say.” He hops out of bed. “Come on. I’ll make you some breakfast.”
He saunters toward the hallway. “Are you going to cook naked?”
He shrugs. “It’s a lazy morning. Lazy mornings are conducted nude.”
“At least put on your briefs.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist me if I’m naked?”
I am. But I won’t admit it to him. He’s already preening more than the peacock atBarnacles & Barnyards,the petting zoo on Smuggler’s Hideaway.
“More worried you’ll get grease on your penis and I’ll be forced to listen to you whine about your pain all day long.”
“My penis thanks you for your concern.”
“It has been instrumental in providing me with orgasms.”
He laughs as he slips on his briefs. They’re tight and don’t leave anything to the imagination. Maybe I should have insisted he wear jeans.
He opens his arms wide. “Am I suitably dressed to cook you breakfast now?”
“It depends on what you cook.”
“It depends on what ingredients you have in your cupboards.”
“Why don’t you rummage around my cupboards while I get ready?”
He sighs. “There’s no chance of you agreeing to have a nude lazy morning?”
I shake my head. I’m not a prude. I have no problem being naked in his presence. But the idea of naked skin on my furniture does not please me. I don’t want to spend an afternoon after a lazy morning disinfecting all the surfaces of the house.
I wave him away before stepping into the bathroom. I go through my morning routine in quick tempo. I’m curious what Eli will cook. Can he actually cook? Or is cooking the same as his poker playing? Mediocre at best.
I sniff as I walk toward the kitchen. I smell bacon and potatoes. My stomach rumbles in response to the enticing scents.
I enter the kitchen and nearly stumble to a halt at the sight. Eli is bent over removing a tray from the oven. His back flexes with his movements. He must spend a considerable amount of time in his home gym to create such muscle definition.
My belly warms as I watch him pivot to place the tray on the counter. His ab muscles are a masterpiece.
It’s a joy to have Eli in my kitchen. The thought startles me. I don’t usually enjoy people in my space. It’s why I’ve neverhad a roommate – not even in college when it was practically mandatory.
Is this what love is? Wanting another person in your space? Enjoying the sight of them moving around your kitchen?
“Hey,” Eli greets when he notices me. “I hope you like bacon and potatoes.”
I step closer. “What kind of potatoes?”