She arched a brow at me while I pulled on my boxers, but remained on the counter as I let go of her waist. I got to my knees, skimming my fingers up her calf, stopping at her thigh. I grasped the intertwining laces of her sandals, untying them slowly, exposing her calf like it was a gift I wanted to take my time unwrapping. Once I had it unlaced, I slid it past her toes, which were painted a deep red. I placed a kiss on the side of her calf andrepeated the process on the other side. When her feet were bare, I snatched her thong off my kitchen floor and slid it up to her thighs, waiting for her to lift her hips so I could slide it up the rest of the way.
Her brown eyes widened in surprise when I lifted her off the counter and slipped her bra on, hooking it in the back for her. I picked up her romper while she adjusted her boobs in her bra, lifting and tucking until they were held in place. Her lips curved into a smile as she found me studying her chest.
I helped her step into her romperand slid it slowly up the smooth skin of her legs. Her breath hitched as my hands skimmed up her ribs. Her head tipped back, showing off a long expanse of her neck, and I ached to press my lips back to her throat. To bite and suck until she was begging me not to stop, but I held back.
“Why does this feel like foreplay even though you’re putting everything back on?” she asked, her voice husky, almost a whisper.
I cracked a smile. “Because I’m not done with you yet today, and you’re not done with me, either.” I slid the straps of her top over her shoulder before moving her hair to the side so I could zip the back.
I leaned down to place my lips on her, nipping gently at that full lower lip. She melted into me, and I groaned, my dick seriously considering round two already, but the sound of her stomach growling reminded me I’d promised her more than orgasms.
I straightened with a smirk. “But first, we both need sustenance.”
She chopped the vegetables as I cracked the eggs and whisked in some seasonings and milk before setting them aside to sauté the vegetables.
“There’s a bowl of fruit in the fridge. Can you grab it for me?” I asked, adding the sautéed vegetables to the omelet with a healthy amount of cheese.
Eve brought the fruit to the table and sipped on another mimosawhile I finished up the omelets.
“Tell me about your rehearsals. Is Broadway everything you thought it would be?”
She wrinkled her nose, taking a drink before answering. “I love the work. Being immersed in a character is fun and challenging. That part is everything I dreamed of. I love it.”
“But?”
She laughed. “But Broadway politics. My costar is entitled and petty and awful to everyone. She’s also majorly talented and performing is second nature to her. She’s just...” She paused, thinking. “a total bitch,” she finished with a laugh. “But she’s also the daughter of some big names on Broadway, so she could get away with murder and still have the part.”
“Ah.” I finished plating the food and set it on the table. “Nepotism is a bitch.”
“Here here.” She raised her glass and took another drink. “How are things at work? Is your boss still being a dick because I called you?”
“No more of a dick than he normally is. I swear that man needs to get laid,” I muttered, shoving a steaming bite into my mouth. It scalded my tongue, but I ignored it.
“Is that all you think it would take?” Eve’s lips pursed as she blew on her fork full of omelet.
“I don’t know. It might loosen the stick he has shoved up his ass, though.”
Sex cured most of my bad moods. It couldn’t hurt.
“To shitty coworkers.” She clinked my glass with hers.
I took a drink, the champagne fizzing on my tongue.
Eve hummed around the bite in her mouth, doing a little happy dance in her seat. I fluffed my metaphorical feathers a little, proud as a peacock.
I was glad my nanny, Maria, had taught me a thing or two in the kitchen before my parents had seen fit to send me off to prep school. Cooking was a good skill to have as an eternal bachelor. Maybe she’d foreseen that.
I was curious to hear more about Eve’s family. She talked about them a lot and made trips to see them in upstate New York, where they lived often.
“So, tell me about your family. They must be proud that you’ve made it to Broadway.”
“Ha! No way. My mom has always resented what I do. She would be ecstatic if I gave up tomorrow and came crawling home without a penny to my name solely so she could say,‘I told you so.Siempre debes escuchar a tu madre.’”
My brows pulled to the middle of my forehead. “Most people I know would be proud to have a kid talented enough to make it here.”
She shrugged. “Acting isn’t a career that they see any value in. The money is okay if you make it, but it’s not a stable job. It’s never a sure thing that you’ll get a part. I’ve spent years waiting tables and making coffee, acting in the tiniest productions with a crowd of 50 people to finally get where I’m at. They hate that I wasted—their words, not mine—a four-year degree on a theater major when I could have gotten a degree that would actually get me a successful career.”
“Don’t they care that you love what you do?” I asked.
