What the fuck? Is Anna cooking or am I just hallucinating because I’m so fucking hungry?
Bolting out of the room, my big frame is in the kitchen in seconds.
Sure enough, there’s Anna with an apron wrapped around her tiny waist, looking sexy as hell, the frilly hem trailing at her knees. A grill pan is situated over two of the burners as she puts the finishing touches on the amazing smelling chicken.
My mouth waters, both from the smell and the sight of her standing there looking both domestic and tantalizing in that damn apron. She can pull off any look. I’ve witnessed her tired and worn last night, naked and startled this morning and now this.
She’s my type. No ifs, ands, and buts about it. Damn straight.
Oblivious to my ogling, Anna looks up at me.
“Hi there,” she murmurs. “You must be hungry. You’ve been holed up in that room for almost five hours straight.”
But I’m not one for niceties.
“What the fuck? I didn’t ask you to cook,” comes my pissed growl. The sentence is out of my mouth before I can stop it. My anger is clearly misplaced but I don’t care. “You only do as you’re told around here, got it?”
But Anna doesn’t get flustered. A calm smile on her face, she picks up some tongs and places two large pieces of chicken on a plate. Next, she walks over to the fridge and retrieves a large bowl. Working silently, she puts some salad on the plate to round out the meal.
Calmly, she places the finished product on the table without much fanfare and turns to me. “Lunch is served.”
Patiently, she waits for me to take my seat.
The pains in my stomach are hard to ignore. I don’t want to give in but the food looks so fucking good and I could use the calories. So with a deep growl, I throw myself into a chair, diving into the steaming food.
And shit, it’s delicious, just like I thought. The juicy chicken is seasoned well and grilled to perfection. And the salad is the perfect touch. Who knew a gold digger like Anna could throw down in the kitchen? Women like her aren’t supposed to be great cooks.
But then again, the redhead has done nothing but show me that my preconceived notions about her are incorrect. Since she arrived, it’s one puzzle after the other and I can’t keep up. What the hell is going on? My eyes trail her as she moves around the kitchen, tidying up.
Even in an apron, she’s fucking sexy. The cloth does nothing to mask her gorgeous figure because those curves are simply impossible to hide. In fact, they’re highlighted from the way the material is tied tightly around her waist. Every enticing dip and valley on her form is emphasized, making my mouth water.
Sucking down an ice cold beer, relief floods me as the cool liquid coats my throat. The food isn’t dry but my dangerous thoughts about this woman caused all the moisture in my mouth to evaporate.
But shit, this is so wrong. The direction of my thoughts disgust me so I finish my meal as quickly as possible before stomping back into my study without another word.
However, the same problem that plagued me last night now returns with a vengeance. I can’t focus on my book no matter how hard I fucking try. Fingers poised over the keyboard, my mind travels back to the woman in the kitchen and just how much I want her.
I should be ashamed of myself for these nasty thoughts. Her tits pressed in my face. Her cunt on my lips, tasting that delicious wetness. That pretty pink pout curved around my dick. Yet, they won’t stop rushing in, taking over my brain. Snapping out of it, my fist bangs against the surface of the desk.
This isn’t right. In fact, this is dead ass wrong.
Not only is she a gold digger, but she’s a slut who tempted my brother with the same body I’m fantasizing about right now. I need to break this lusty trance with a fucking ice pick.
Anna is a whore and cannot be trusted under absolutely any circumstances. She’s a ho and I’m not allowed to crave her no matter how much my dick twitches and strains against my pants.
This isn’t about anything but revenge. She’s going to pay for trying to fuck her way into my family. And she damn well deserves everything that’s coming her way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Anna
I wonder what he’s up to.
Ever since his disappearing act after lunch, Robert hasn’t shown his face once. He hasn’t come out to get a drink of water or even go to the bathroom. What has he been doing all day? Not a single peep has come from the room he uses as his hiding place. Even though it’s none of my business what he’s doing, I can’t help but be curious.