Page 77 of The Jaded Notes

I study her. “You are.”

“How so?” Her hip brushes me as she passes.

That was intentional.

She sets the items on the counter, every movement suggestive, like she’s performing just for me.

“Correction…” My gaze drops to the hem of my shirt swaying against her thighs. “You’re wearing my clothes in my kitchen and making me breakfast. That’s not bold, that’s dangerous.”

She peeks over her shoulder, her gaze meeting mine, lips curving like she’s already won something. “Then maybe you should stop me.”

Every part of me wants to close the distance, pin her against the counter, and remind her who she’s dealing with. But if I do, she’ll know how much power she already has.

Instead, I lean back against the island and watch her get eggs out of the refrigerator. “I’m not in the habit of stopping things I enjoy.”

Her smile widens in satisfaction.

And that’s the problem.

Because the longer I let her move around my space as if she belongs here, the more I wonder if she actually does.

“Mr. Crowne, is everything okay?” Natalie’s polite concern cuts through my distraction.

We’re in a conference room across the hall from the office where Livianna is working. She’s got a dressmaker’s dummy she’s pinning different materials and designs to. And I can’t keep my eyes off her.

“Yes.” I glance at Natalie and focus on the list of items we’re supposed to be discussing. “Please, continue.”

“Of course.” She focuses on the task at hand while I pretend to be paying attention.

The worst part about wanting Livianna is how easy it is to forget I should be working. I peek at her again.

She analyzes something on a sketchpad, lips pursed in concentration, and hair spilling over one shoulder in a waythat makes me remember exactly how it felt tangled in my fingers.

Days have passed since our date that stretched into late Sunday evening, and visions of that weekend play on repeat in my head.

My shirt on her. Her bare legs under my clothes. Her voice teasing about breakfast while I fought the urge to drag her back to bed.

Again, I failed and spent all afternoon on Sunday ravishing her until she could barely keep her eyes open. I can’t get enough of her.

And as I stare at her right now, she never glances my way, but I swear she feels my gaze. Every line of her body radiates a quiet confidence like she knows I’m watching and doesn’t care.

The pen in my hand stills. My grip tightens. I can almost smell the faint trace of her perfume from here.

She stops what she’s doing and picks up her phone. Her smile beams as soon as she knows who’s speaking on the other side of the line.

My jaw twitches because whatever that person said has her glowing like the weekend never happened. And I can’t have that.

“Excuse me, Natalie.” I stand and motion to the door. “We’ll need to reconvene. I just remembered I told Livianna I’d help her today. She’s in the other room and is accessible, so I’d like to see if I can meet with her.”

“Yes, Mr. Crowne.” Natalie gathers her belongings from the table and peers at me. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You seem distracted.” She laughs in a light and airy way. “And you’re not one to explain why you do anything to me, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I’m not following.” My throat closes.

Fuck.