Page 20 of Callum

Brushing the hairs off her forehead, he kissed it gently, tempted to kiss her mouth. He wanted her again, he thought in amazement.

A frown touched his brow as he realized the consequences of that. He had shown her how vulnerable he was where she was concerned, meaning she could get away with anything more or less. He was not used to that.

He had a reputation to think about, but damn if that did not matter to him at all.

Settling back, he pulled her closer and settled into sleep.

*****

He woke up with the side of the bed next to him empty. Feeling bereft, he sat up and dragged his fingers through his hair before looking at the time. Almost ten, he mused, shaking his head. He was always an early riser, no matter what. But having a somewhat active sex life could change that.

It also occurred to him that she could not leave without the code. That settled him somewhat and had him leaping off the bed to shower and put some clothes on. A look outside the expansive windows confirmed that it was snowing.

He found her in the kitchen and enjoyed bracing against the doorframe and watching as she scrambled eggs. She had showered and was wearing purple leggings and a thin lavender sweater. Her hair was piled on top of her head in an untidy style, with tendrils framing her face and the back of her neck. And she was barefoot.

"Oh. Hi." She stared at him as she turned around. "I invaded your kitchen and made breakfast."

"Consider it yours." He strolled into the room and caught her around the waist.

"I am cooking here."

"And it smells wonderful, or perhaps it's you." He bent to sniff the side of her neck and nibbled at the skin. "Definitely you."

"The eggs." She pushed him away reluctantly to rescue it.

"Sit."

"Yes, ma'am." He did so and smiled as she poured coffee and handed it to him.

"I could get used to this."

"Don't.' She told him mildly. "I am not one for the kitchen. And you have enough money to hire millions of maids."

"Maybe not millions." He sipped the coffee. "And I would never want you slaving behind a stove. I am a modern man and would rather have you in my bed."

"Very funny." She looked darkly at him as she popped bread into the fancy toaster.

"It was not meant to be." He grinned at her. "You are not wearing makeup."

She looked at him in surprise as she scooped the eggs out. "Why should I?"

"Most women would not dare step out of the bedroom without putting their 'faces on.'"

"I am not like most women, and I hardly wear makeup." She took the bread out. "Butter or jam?"

"Butter." He did not bother to tell her that he rarely ate breakfast. But this was cozy, the snow at their backs and her making him breakfast. It felt like they were a couple. And they were. "Why don't you?"

"Why don't I do what?"

"Not wearing makeup?"

"I hate sitting still and applying it when I have to turn around and take it off before bed." She slid him a plate and climbed onto a stool. "I hate to waste time."

"You do not need it." Reaching across the mile-wide malachite counter, he tugged at a lock of hair and slid his fingers over her cheek. "You have gorgeous skin."

"Thanks. Now, shall we talk about the bracelet?"

"What about it?" He dug into his eggs.