“Dang,” she breathes, her voice hushed as her eyes roam the sleek, modern space. “This place is gorgeous. And so different from your house.”
She’s not wrong. The flat is a world apart from my usual style. Open floor plan, dark accents, and arched windows framing a view of Dean Village that makes the whole place look like it’s floating above the city. The furnishings are clean, sharp, and sophisticated. It’s the kind of place you see in glossy magazines. The opposite of what anyone would picture when they hear my name.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her take it all in. “Thanks, lass. You want your bags in the spare room or mine?”
“Yours,” she says without a second thought, already kicking off her shoes as she steps farther into the flat. I can’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. She’s making herself at home, and damn if it doesn’t feel…right.
After stashing her bags in my room, I wander back out to find her sprawled on the white couch in the living room, feet propped on the coffee table. She’s got that cheeky grin on her face.
“So, this is how your alter ego lives, huh?”
“Yep,” I say with a shrug before dropping into the chair across from her. “The real me prefers pizza boxes and mismatched socks, but, you know, appearances.”
“Of course,” she laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Really, though. It’s gorgeous.”
Her gaze drifts over to the bookshelf that spans an entire wall of the living room, and she raises a brow. “I didn’t know you were such an intellectual.”
I lean back, stretching my legs out in front of me and making myself comfortable. “Aye, I guess I don’t advertise that. Gotta keep the mystery alive, lass. Wouldn’t want you to get too cozy.”
“Oh, trust me,” she says, motioning to the furniture and spotless surfaces. “Cozy isn’t exactly the vibe I get here. More like…dangerously pristine.”
I chuckle. “Good. Keeps people on their toes.”
She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “You mean it scares them off.”
“Same thing,” I shoot back with a wink.
Her laugh softens as she shifts, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “What time are we going on this ghosty tour, then?”
“Not until dark, so we’ve got time to relax. Thought we could order takeaway before we head out?”
“Sounds great. Mind if I freshen up? You can order whatever. I’m not picky.”
“Sure thing,” I say, nodding toward the hallway. “Your bags are in my room, first door on the left. The en suite’s all yours.”
“Thanks,” she replies, flashing me another smile before making her way down the hall.
And as she walks away, well… There’s no point pretending I don’t notice the sway of her hips or the way her jeans hug her just right. It’s impossible not to look. Hell, I’d challenge any man alive to resist.
My mind doesn’t exactly behave, either. My imagination runs wild with the thought of her soft, smooth thighs locked around my waist. Even better would be tasting her and hearing her moan my name as she comes undone on my tongue.
I run a hand through my hair, letting out a slow breath. She’s down the hall, trusting me to be a gentleman, and here I am, letting my imagination get the better of me.
I glance toward the hallway, half expecting to see her standing there, ready to catch me in my not-so-gentlemanly thoughts. Guess that’s the price of being this damn attracted to someone. My brain’s running at full speed while my body’s stuck in slow motion.
sixteen
BREE
Holy hell, this is the nicest bathroom I’ve ever been in. The walls and floor are covered in dark marble, giving it this ridiculously luxurious vibe, and the floating vanity with its huge, backlit round mirror looks like something straight out of a magazine. Then there’s the walk-in, frameless shower that’s practically begging me to use it. Honestly, it puts every spa I’ve ever been in to shame.
By the time I tear myself away from my new favorite place in the flat, the scent of herbs and spices hits my senses. It’s enough to make my stomach growl as I follow the aroma down the hall.
“What is that mouthwatering smell?” I call out, rounding the corner into the kitchen.
Callan is standing at the counter, unpacking paper bags stuffed full of takeout containers. He glances over his shoulder, his signature smirk already creeping onto his face. “I hope you like Thai,” he says casually. “I grabbed a bit of everything. Didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for.”
A container of pad thai lands on the counter, followed by abowl of green curry that looks like it could put all other curries to shame.
