Red Hot Winter - K. Webster Page 0,3

laid eyes on him yesterday, I realized it was more than infatuation.

My attraction to him almost had me attempting breakfast this morning. But I can’t even figure out his coffee machine. I don’t have to be at school for two hours and if I don’t get coffee, I’m going to murder someone. The only eligible candidate is probably still sleeping in the other room, and based on what an asshole he was yesterday, I’m not opposed to it.

Before I can carry out plans of said murder, his deep, rumbly voice startles me.

“That’s not acceptable either,” he says gruffly.

I whip around and the second I see him, I realize what a mistake that was. He’s already dressed impeccably. His jacket is missing, but he dons a crisp white button-down and a pale gray vest that matches his slacks. The dress shoes he wears are shiny and match his black belt. His tie is a pale pink color. Only August Miller could get away with such a color.

“What?” I ask in confusion.

His gaze slowly rakes down my neck, lingers at my tits, and then travels the rest of the way down. “Your clothes,” he grumbles. “Or should I say, lack thereof.”

“I didn’t expect you to be up so early,” I say with a huff, crossing my arms over my chest. The thin T-shirt feels thinner than usual considering I don’t have a bra on and my short silky shorts reveal just about everything. I’m feeling too exposed around a man who looks that good.

“I’m always up this early,” he bites back as he starts messing with the coffee machine. I watch with rapt attention so I don’t have to ask him again. But I soon lose interest in his task as my gaze falls to his ass. His slacks hug his ass that looks too good for this early in the morning. I haven’t had coffee yet, so I can’t be responsible for my crazy thoughts.

The coffee starts brewing and he turns, leaning his hip against the counter as he regards me. I can’t help but notice the bulge in his slacks. My flesh heats and I bite on my bottom lip to keep from letting out a girly sigh. I jerk my eyes up to meet his blazing green ones. His dark brown hair has been stylishly gelled in a way not many men can pull off. Just-fucked meets boardroom boss is the style he’s sporting. Every male part of him screams to the female parts of me. But it’s a lost cause. My dad fucked him over. And the evil glint in his eyes says he wants to return the favor.

I’ll be damned if I’m anyone’s revenge fuck.

“Cereal’s in the cabinet,” I say curtly.

His nostrils flare. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

I gape at him. The little monster wanted me to cook and he doesn’t even eat it. “A little early for the bullshit,” I say as I stand on my toes to reach an upper cabinet.

His touch is gentle on the small of my back as he steps close and pulls a mug out for me. I grumble out my thanks while he grabs one for himself. Like two greedy little birds waiting for a worm, we hover near the coffee pot. Once the pot finishes brewing, he pours some into each of our mugs.

“Sugar?”

I jerk my head his way. “What?”

“Want sugar?”

Shaking my head, I take a step away from his burning proximity. “I like my coffee black.” I smirk at him. “Like my soul.”

This earns me a twitch of the corner of his mouth. Like he might have smiled but then thought better of it.

“Be ready in an hour,” he says, his eyes darting behind me. “It’s snowing pretty hard. You don’t need to drive in this shit. I’ll give you a ride.”

I turn and frown at the windows. “I can manage,” I lie. I hate driving in the snow. Yesterday, it’d barely started, and I slipped all over the place.

His body heat burns into me from behind. I bite back a gasp when I feel his hardness brush against me. “No, you can’t,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling my hair. “I need you to arrive in one piece.”

“Why?”

He twists an unruly strand of my hair around his finger and tugs. “Because if you weren’t here, who else would I give a hard time?”

I want to blurt out that he needs to go bug someone else, but truth is, a tiny thrill shoots through me. Something forbidden and dirty.