The Lover’s Secret (No Exceptions #1)(17)
Author: J.C. Reed

I knew the footsteps were his, slow and steady, as if he knew where he was going and what he was doing. Just like everything else he did, Jett’s steps were always as if he poured his whole energy into every minute of his life. And now, he was heading toward our closed bedroom door behind which I was standing.

My stomach lurched. What if Jett had been here the whole time, somewhere in that huge penthouse, and I panicked for no reason? Even if that was the case, I couldn’t afford to let him know it.

First of all, I didn’t want to appear desperate. That was definitely a no-no.

Second, I didn’t want him to think I didn’t have a life of my own, which would have been worse than appearing desperate.

I ran back to the bed, unsure if I should pretend to be still asleep or twist myself into a sexy pose.

I snorted at the thought: I couldn’t act or pose seductively even if I wanted to. My acting skills sucked. They were even worse than my cooking—an ability that was practically non-existent because I was certainly no culinary genius. All things considered, I decided it was best to try to look as if I had just woken up.

Yeah, that could work. I’ll stretch my arms over my head, do some head-rolls, and let out a hearty yawn.

I nodded, pleased with my own plan, and readied myself to slide over from his side to mine…only, too late.

The door opened, and Jett walked in with an amused look on his face as he regarded me. I swallowed, and not because he had just caught me in an awkward position—on all fours, with my butt pointed right at him. Wearing a black jacket, a tight, gray shirt, and sexy jeans that perfectly accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist, he looked so badass that I could have ripped his clothes right off his body. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t think of anything to say.

He was pure sexiness, and my body reacted to him like he was made of honey. In every sense, he was all I could focus on. His body, his eyes, his voice: it was as if he had been made to be glorified.

“Like what you see?” Jett asked, drawing my attention back to his face.

I rolled my eyes, cursing the fact that I was so weak for him. He was my very own addiction. I decided the only way to cure my body’s weakness for him was to deny that he had that kind of effect on me.

“It requires a little more to impress me,” I said dryly. “I’m not all about muscles and a pretty face, you know.”

Amusement glittered in his eyes as he curved his lips up in a sexy smile. “That’s a shame, Miss Stewart. You strike me as a meat person.”

I opened my mouth to hit back with a snarky remark, but then he pointed to the trolley behind him, which I hadn’t noticed before. It took me a few seconds to realize the meaning of his words: he was talking about breakfast. And a big one at that. I stared at the carted feast in disbelief.

Holy crap.

Had Jett decided to raid the hotel’s kitchen?

There were so many things to choose from, enough to cater to a small party, and make you feel like an idiot for not being able to name each food. My stomach churned as my eyes scanned the delicious-looking pastries and bagels, and the smoked salmon arranged around a vast selection of bacon and cheese, granola, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. A folded newspaper was arranged next to a narrow vase that held a single red rose. I stared in awe, barely able to contain my delight. I had never seen an omelet with lobster claws, and was that caviar? There was even a bowl full of strange-looking exotic fruits, some I’d never seen before.

Talk about a variety worthy of a royal visit!

Unwillingly, I peeled my eyes off the breakfast tray and turned my attention back to Jett. “Is this all for us?”

“It’s part of the penthouse package,” he said. Pressing a sheet against my chest, I followed him into the living room and watched him as he grabbed a fork and frowned. “They didn’t include the Alma caviar though when they should have.”

“Really? How rude.” My voice matched his disapproving tone, though I was unsure whether he was seriously complaining about fish eggs or just joking.

“Gold caviar sells for thousands of dollars. I wanted to know if the price reflects the quality,” he continued, not taking the hint, and dipped a fork into the black layer covering half the omelet. “Let’s hope the alternative is as good as they claim it is.”

Holy dang!

He had paid thousands for some slimy, black goop that barely looked edible? Or was gold caviar made of gold? If it was, I could probably sell a spoonful of the stuff and pay my month’s rent, and still have spare change left. Mortified, I looked at the caviar omelet, not sure whether to laugh or be shocked. Was food even allowed to be that expensive? The idea that people would spend so much on a few morsels was beyond me. And frankly, fish eggs? Weren’t they like little fish droppings? I stared at the fork he was holding and realized they certainly looked the part.

“Try it, Brooke.”

“Do I have to?” I tried to suppress a scowl but failed. I had never really had a thing for caviar. I had tasted it once—probably the fake stuff—and found it disgusting.

“You’ll like it.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but there was enough force in it to convince me that he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

Taking a bite, I forced myself to chew slowly, and leaned back, surprised. It tasted delicious, reminding me of the sea, with just a hint of lobster, olive oil, and herbs.

“Not bad.”

“See?” Laughing, he heaped some on the fork again and held it up to my lips.

Maybe it was the baby talking, but I suddenly felt ravenous. I wanted to take another bite when Jett stepped in front of me—too close not to think about sex—and I noticed his lopsided smile.

“I wouldn’t skimp on this either.” His voice came low and hoarse.

Confused, I looked up at him, with no idea of what he was referring to. But there was no need to ask. His gaze dipped slowly from my eyes to my lips, finally settling on my br**sts. As I looked down, I noticed that the covers had shifted, revealing more than was decent. Heat blushed my cheeks, and I quickly pulled up the sheet in a weak attempt to hide some of my skin. He stopped my hand before I could cover myself.

“I don’t like you covered up.” He grinned. “In fact, you’re so sexy that you shouldn’t wear anything at all.”

“I can’t do that,” I said, shocked at his preposterous suggestion.

“Of course you can. In fact, as long as we stay here, I must insist that you run around naked.”