He had absolutely no shame as he moved with casual ease around his kitchen. His hair was pulled back again at the top, the length just brushing his shoulders. Walsh made a gorgeous picture, but I mostly just stared at his dick.
To my surprise, it started to move and lengthen.
My eyes flew up to his, and he was staring at me staring at him.
“Go put your clothes on,” he said drily. “And bring me a pair of briefs out of my top dresser drawer. At this rate, both of us will perish from starvation.”
I scurried to the bedroom and did as he asked, relieved not to have to feel awkward around Walsh. I expect we could move toward naked breakfast, but things are still too new on the sexual-discovery scale. You’d think after all the things Walsh has done to me, I’d be a bit freer with my body, but if anything, I might be more insecure. I guess I might feel inadequate after seeing up close and personal—repeatedly—how confident he is sexually. I’m not sure I measure up.
This thought sucks because this all leads back to Vince making me feel this way, and it’s something I just don’t like.
But now I’ve got on my panties and one of Walsh’s t-shirts, which he told me was way sexier than me being naked anyway, and he has on a pair of very well-fitting boxer briefs in black. I make myself not look at the front, which has his beautiful package clearly outlined as he butters some toast.
I quietly watch him work, thinking I’ve never seen anything as inherently sexy as a man who feels confident in the kitchen.
In his underwear.
“What are we going to do today?” I ask him casually, and then I wince because that sounds so clingy. It also sounds bossy and intrusive, and much the way I imagined he viewed me when I was a little girl always demanding his and Micah’s attention.
Walsh glances up at me, swallows his food, and smirks. “Some of us have jobs, Jorie. I have to go into the office.”
Oh, shit. It’s Monday. Given the fact I’m unemployed, and haven’t worried about what day of the week it was for several now, it slipped my mind.
I glance over at the digital clock on the microwave. “But it’s almost eleven.”
Another smirk. “One of the perks of owning your own business. Besides, I texted my secretary early this morning to cancel any appointments I had before noon.”
“Oh,” I say and focus on my eggs. Pretty soon, I’ll need to leave his place. Pretty soon, I’ll know for sure whether Walsh will let me back in here. Last night, I goaded him into reacting to me, but I can’t do that again. Not because I’m not that devious, because I am, but because I really don’t want to go to The Wicked Horse by myself. I don’t think he’ll call my bluff a second time.
“What are you going to do, Jor?” Walsh asks as he picks up his coffee to take a sip.
I shrug. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess get some laundry done, maybe—”
“No,” he interrupts. “What are you going to do with your life? You can’t just hide out in Elena’s apartment forever.”
“I’m not hiding,” I say hotly.
“Have you looked for a new job? Have you decided to stay in Henderson permanently? Or maybe move to San Francisco to be near Micah?”
“I don’t know,” I say in my surliest voice. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Why not?” he asks curiously. “You’re a go-getter, Jorie. Always have been.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Walsh,” I snap. “I got kicked out of my own house three weeks ago because I was a lousy lay to my husband. I think I’ve been reeling a little bit and not sure what to do.”
Walsh’s eyes harden, and he sets his cup down. Leaning across the island, he says, “You are not a lousy lay. Stop thinking of yourself that way.”
“I can’t even have naked breakfast with you,” I mutter. “I’m pretty sure I’m not good at this stuff.”
“Hey,” he says, and my eyes lock to his. “These last two nights, I’ve never come harder in my life. You drained me dry, Jorie, and trust me when I say… you’re a fantastic fuck. Your husband is a moron.”
I give him a weak smile and take a bite of my eggs.
Thankfully, he moves on from the topic of sex, but not thankfully, he moves back to prodding me about my life. “I’m assuming you quit your job when you came here?”
“Well, yeah. It was back in Los Angeles. I’m here in Nevada.”
“Your job could be done from anywhere,” Walsh points out, and I blink at him in surprise.
Then my lips curve upward. “You knew what my job was?”
Walsh shrugs. “Micah kept me a little up to date with what was going on with you.”