"What are the odds you'll let me fuck you tonight?"
She grins. "One hundred percent, you lucky dog."
The woman I adore dashes down the hallway, waving for me to follow.
And I run after her.
Everything else can wait until tomorrow.
Chapter Twelve
Elena
This time, the morning after a night with Chance is a lot more fun. I don't worry about showing up to work wearing an inappropriately fancy and sexy dress, because we're in my apartment. When I ask Chance if he needs to rush home to change clothes, he says, "I don't give a toss what anyone thinks of my clothes, and besides, I'm living across the street from the office." Okay, fair point. He can rush up to his hotel room to change. And if he's late, I doubt Raisa will care. She wants him back and reaming him for being tardy won't win him over.
After a round of fun wake-up sex, Chance wants to take a shower with me, like we'd done the morning after our big date in his hotel suite. I'm all for repeating that experience, but there's a problem. The shower is only slightly bigger than I am. Kyle barely fits in it by himself, so I know Chance and I have no, um, chance of squeezing in there together. This apartment does not have a tub. Chance is disappointed but agrees that the two of us getting sardined in the shower will only result in a 911 call and an embarrassing use of the Jaws of Life.
We reach a compromise. He stands outside the shower watching me get clean, then I watch him do the same. He's even hotter when he's wet. The water rolls down his body, outlining every muscle and making his hair glisten. When he tips his head back to rinse his hair, running his fingers through it, I get tingly all over. But when he slathers sudsy body wash all over himself, I'm pretty sure he does it slowly on purpose to give me an incredible view of his soapy bod. I want to climb in there and bathe him with my tongue.
I won't fit. Damn.
But post-shower sex is awesome.
When we finally walk into the kitchen, Kyle is already there whipping up pancakes and bacon.
"Morning," he says. "You guys sure take a long time to get showered and dressed. Kinda noisy about it too."
He gives me a smug smile.
I roll my eyes.
Chance and I perch on stools on the other side of the bar from Kyle. I can't resist laying my hand on Chance's thigh and feeling him up. The bar hides what I'm doing from Kyle's view, not that I think he'll care if he sees it. Kyle has wanted me to get a new boyfriend for almost a year, ever since the last one dumped me for a dog groomer. Apparently, wiping poodles' asses is sexier than being a paralegal. Who knew?
I give Chance's thigh a squeeze.
He rests his hand on the back of my stool and leans in to kiss me. It's a sweet kiss, nothing naughty about it. I suppose he's being polite, holding back in front of my brother, but I like the kiss. Sometimes simplicity is the sexiest thing.
Kyle flips a pancake. It sails through the air only to smack down right where it started, only now its cooked side faces up. My brother is an expert pancake flipper, and I've always envied him that talent. I can't flip a burger without it sticking to the griddle.
"Very impressive," Chance tells Kyle. "You're quite the cook, aren't you?"
"Nah." Kyle flips another pancake, since he has four of them on the griddle. "I can do basic stuff like pancakes and fried eggs." He points his spatula at me. "Elena's the real master chef around here."
"Don't listen to a word my brother says," I tell Chance. "He's a massive liar. I'm no better at cooking than he is. Kyle's trying to make you think I'm amazing so you'll be horribly disappointed when I finally cook for you. Little brothers are obnoxious that way."
Chance kisses my cheek. "I doubt Kyle is exaggerating your skills, but I know what younger siblings can be like. I have two of them."
"What? How come you haven't mentioned them before?"
He shrugs. "Never came up in conversation."
"But I told you about Kyle over lunch the other day."
"True." He scratches his jaw, eying me sideways. "I suppose I should've said something then, but I love listening to you talk."
Kyle bursts out with the phoniest guffaw I've ever heard. "Damn, you've got it bad. Don't you, Brit boy?"
I aim an exaggerated scowl at him. "Be nice. Chance is my boyfriend, so don't be obnoxious."