“That’s what you get for sleeping on my couch,” Ellie smirked, taking a bite of her cereal. “Coffee?”
“Yes,” I grumbled, shoving to my feet and following her into the kitchen.
She set her bowl down on the counter, then stood on tiptoes as she grabbed a mug from the top of the cabinet. Her shirt raised just enough for me to get a peek at her belly, and that’s when I had to turn away.
Morning wood was a bitch, and it seemed just a glimpse of Ellie’s perfect skin was enough to get the blood flowing early this morning.
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Just black,” I muttered, sinking down on one of her stools. As she turned to pour the coffee, I grabbed my cock and gave it a squeeze, trying to tame the beast.
“So,” she said, sliding the mug across to me. “How did you sleep?”
The smirk on her face had the opposite effect that she intended. “Perfect. A little cramped, but I like it here. Nice house.”
“Remember the Grants?”
Taking a sip of my coffee, I struggled to make my brain function so early in the morning on hardly any sleep. “Old couple, right?”
“Yep. They built this place,” she smiled, glancing around at the old timbers. “Anyway, when they moved back to England, I practically begged them for this place. I couldn’t pay them what they wanted, but I guess they were happy to let it go to someone who loved it just as much as they did.”
“Lucky for you.”
She nodded, her blonde curls shifting slightly with the movement. There were no signs of sadness from last night, and her blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the early morning hours.
Twinkle?
I scrubbed a hand down my face, chastising myself for sounding like a fucking woman.
“Bad coffee?”
“No, it’s good,” I said, taking another sip. “Got any more of that cereal?”
Turning around, she opened the cabinet and gave me a good shot of her ass in those tight jeans. Fuck, I really had to stop ogling the woman. It wasn’t like I was sticking around. After what happened with my parents, I was getting out of here. The last thing I needed was to fall into this woman’s trap.
“I have Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Wheaties, and Special K. What’s your preference?”
“Wheaties?” I asked. “I didn’t realize they still sold that.”
“Well, if it’s good enough for Michael Jordan, then it’s good enough for me.”
I nodded, reaching for the box, pouring myself a good bowlful. I noticed she was eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which was what I probably should have gone for, but somehow, Wheaties seemed more manly.
“Big plans for the day?” she asked, setting the milk on the counter for me.
“Packing.”
“Heading back to New York already?”
When I looked up at her, I could have sworn she was avoiding my eyes. Could she be upset I was leaving? No, that was ridiculous. Why would she care if I was leaving? She wouldn’t even tell me what all this shit was about with Liam.
“Probably.”
She finished off her bowl and set it in the sink. “Well, I have a busy day at the shop. Lots to do.”
“Oh, should I?—”
“No, I have to finish getting ready. Take your time.”
