Stoking the Fire (Salus Security #1) - Teodora Kostova Page 0,5

I lean against the doorframe and watch him talking to the dog. He’s sitting at Alec’s feet, tail thumping on the floor, head inclined to the side. “You already had breakfast, and I gave you a treat a minute ago.” The dog keeps looking at him, his tongue coming out to lick his nose. Sensing me lurking at the doorway, the dog turns to look at me.

“Oh, hey,” Alec says, crouching down to pet the dog, and I’m pretty sure I see him eat a treat out of his hand. Satisfied, he trots out of the kitchen without a second glance. Alec shakes his head after him. “I made breakfast,” he says to me. “How do you like your French toast? Maple syrup? Powder sugar? I think there are blueberries in the fridge.”

I stare at him. “Um… Maple syrup is fine.”

“Wow, don’t suppress your enthusiasm on my account.”

I chuckle, then make my way to the table. Alec puts a plate full of French toast in front of me. I eye it with dismay. “You know I can’t eat all of that, right?”

“Give it your best shot.” He sits across from me with his own plate overflowing with food.

“The dog is cute. But I think the cat hates me.” I drizzle a hefty amount of syrup on a slice of French toast, my mouth watering. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now. I bite into it, and the flavor explodes in my mouth.

“She hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.”

I hum around a mouthful of food. Alec watches me with a wistful smile on his face as I eat, his food still untouched.

“You’re not gonna eat?” I ask when my mouth is somewhat empty. “It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

He stands, walks over to the counter, and starts loading the coffee machine. The kitchen is bright, sunlight coming through the big window. The counters are sparkling clean, as if he hasn’t been cooking just now.

I ogle his ass, deliciously clad in gray sweatpants that leave very little to the imagination. He’s wearing a thin white t-shirt, the dark lines of his tattoos showing through the fabric. I’m overcome with the urge to be close to him, the pull too strong to resist.

I wipe my mouth on the napkin he’s put next to my plate and stand. I walk over to him and prop a hip on the counter. He presses the start button, the machine coming to life.

“Thank you,” I say, gesturing to the table. “It’s the best breakfast I’ve had.”

He mimics my pose. “Somehow, I doubt that. Didn’t you grow up with housekeepers and private chefs and shit?”

“I did.” We smile at each other as the coffee brews, filling the air with mouthwatering aroma. “And my statement still stands.”

He bites his lip and looks at me through his lashes. Reaching for me tentatively, he pulls me closer. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. Without any effort whatsoever, he lifts me and hoists me up on the counter, placing his hands on the surface and caging me in.

He nuzzles my neck, and I inhale him, his scent sinking into every part of me.

When he kisses me, I lose myself in his kiss—in him—and I don’t know how to find my way back.

Chapter four

Alec: I’ll be late tonight. The client just got invited to a party and I don’t know when we’ll be done. I’ll text you when I head back home.

I stare at the text, my hand freezing in the cold December wind. Other students walk past me, but everyone gives me a wide berth. Apart from a few acquaintances, I haven’t managed to make any friends on campus. When most people meet me, they already have an opinion of me, and more often than not, it’s not a favorable one.

I have no interest in changing people’s minds. Fuckers can think whatever they want.

Me: I’ll leave the door open. Just let yourself in.

I type the text with freezing fingers, then put the phone back in my pocket. I barely manage to put my glove back on when it vibrates. I groan.

Alec: No, you will not. Who leaves their door unlocked in NYC, Zach? Lock yourself in. I’ll text you to let me in.

I read the text, my eyes drifting to the time in the corner. “Shit,” I mutter, hastily putting my phone away without responding.

I’m late for class. Professor Allsop already hates me, thinking I’m acing his course because someone in my father’s