Page 11 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)

Chapter Eleven

Alice

Sex is an underrated icebreaker.

Don’t be a prude.

Eight Years Earlier …

With my legs tucked into my shirt, knees to my chest, I grinned before taking a sip of my steamy coffee. Had I really propositioned Murphy for sex?

Palmer jumped up next to me on the outdoor sectional and purred the second I touched him. My gaze climbed the back side of the building just as Murphy opened the shades. He smiled, and I returned a beauty queen wave.

I liked my escape, and I never wanted to leave.

No job.

No responsibilities .

No one hovering over me, making sure I didn’t slit my wrists.

A few seconds later, Murphy descended the back stairs with a coffee mug in one hand and something indistinguishable in his other. “Good morning,” he said.

“What are you eating?” I asked.

“A quesadilla.”

I wrinkled my nose. “For breakfast? With coffee?”

“Correct.”

“Why is it so limp?”

“What do you mean?” He stepped onto the deck.

“They’re supposed to be crisp on the outside. Grilled to perfection with a side of guacamole.”

“I throw cheese on a tortilla, fold it in half, and nuke it. But enough about me. How’d you sleep after all that wine and red meat?”

“Like a baby. You?”

He yawned. “Not so great.”

“That’s too bad. Why not?”

“A lot on my mind?” He sat next to me on the sectional.

“Sex?”

He smirked before sipping his coffee, then he shook his head. “Wow. I thought it was just the wine and music. Twilight-induced bravery. But you’re going there this morning. Just throwing it out there before I’m properly caffeinated.”

“You’ve said on multiple occasions to let you know if I need anything. I don’t want this to come across as a threat, but when I leave my review, I’ll have no choice but to mention your lack of responsiveness to my requests.”

Murphy chuckled before shoving the rest of his quesadilla into his mouth and chewing slowly. Then he cleared his throat. “Just like that, huh?”

“Just like what?” I stroked Palmer’s back.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. “You’ve been here four days, and you’re ready to have sex with me?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Have you ever met a woman at a bar and taken her home only to say, ‘Nice knowing ya,’ the next morning? I believe there is a name for that …” I twisted my lips.

“A one-night stand?”

I snapped my fingers. “Bingo.”

He wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you sure you’re not married?”

“Positive.” I drank my coffee, enjoying Murphy’s real-time contemplation.

“Fine.” He stood. “Let me brush my teeth.”

My lips parted, eyes unblinking as he climbed the stairs with the same unhurried pace as he’d descended them, like sex with me was something to mark off a to-do list.

On the off chance that he was serious, I ran inside and brushed my teeth, too, combed my hair, shaved my legs at the bathroom sink, and rolled on deodorant.

Then I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

Was I really going to have sex with a virtual stranger?

I glanced down, tracing the scar on my arm.

“I have a haircut in an hour,” Murphy called from the other room. “Are we doing this or not?”

My heart pounded, but before I let any sort of reason steal my bravery (my recklessness), I opened the bathroom door.

Murphy was by my bed, checking the glass watering bulb to the plant on the nightstand.

When our gazes locked, I shrugged off my nightshirt, leaving me in just my black underwear as I took three steps and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He pulled back a fraction when I tried to kiss him. I narrowed my eyes, and he grinned.

“Hi,” he whispered.

It was simple, yet emotionally jarring. I almost chickened out. Almost.

I don’t know what I expected. After all, Murphy seemed like a gentleman who cared about my marital status, and he had flawless taste in music and a knack for keeping houseplants alive. Adding those things together led me to expect a hot romp in the sheets with a little cuddle time afterward.

Nope.

Murphy ditched his shirt then backed me into the desk opposite the bed, peeled my underwear down my legs, and released himself from his jeans, all the while fervently kissing me.

“Oh god …” I threw back my head and gasped, gripping his arm with one hand and the edge of the desk with my other as he drove into me.

It was all very à la carte. No foreplay, and I presumed it wouldn’t end with desktop cuddling. Just sex.

It was exactly what I needed, as if Murphy knew the circumstances that brought me to the Lake of the Isles for two weeks. We screwed like someone injected something into our veins that made us lose our minds, and everything that had haunted me just disappeared for a few minutes.

Our gazes locked, and he grinned which made me mirror his response. It was that “holy shit, we’re really doing this” grin. Then he kissed me again, and we hummed at the same time like, “holy shit, this feels so good.”

He ducked his head and drew my nipple into his mouth.

When he tugged it with his teeth, I climaxed.

He fused his mouth to mine, swallowing my cry while he pumped into me harder, then orgasmed with a low, sexy groan vibrating his chest. When it was over, we clung to each other, breathless and utterly satisfied beyond all expectations.

At least, that’s what I planned on writing in his five-star review.

For the record, I had never gone home with a stranger from a bar for a one-night stand. It was all feigned confidence on my part. But more than that, I had never experienced such an uncontrollable pull toward another human.

Murphy fisted the back of my hair and kissed me again, his tongue sweeping the inside of my mouth. Then he kissed his way down my neck while simultaneously tucking himself back into his briefs and zipping his jeans. I opened my eyes when he froze and peered over my shoulder.

He reached behind me and ran his finger along the chipped drywall where the desk had rammed against it.

“I’m not paying for that,” I said.

He couldn’t hide his grin as I hopped off the desk and grabbed my underwear and nightshirt before sauntering to the bathroom. “Looks like you’ll get to your haircut on time. Five stars for efficiency, Murphy Paddon.”

As soon as I closed the door, I covered my mouth and cried my fucking eyes out.