I WOKE TO THE SOUNDS of sizzling bacon and Stealers Wheel filling my ears with “Stuck in the Middle with You.” I grinned at the idea of Matt standing around in his sleek, far too big for one human being kitchen, and cooking breakfast.
We’d been back from our little trip for three days, and every single night was spent in his bed. Topsy-turvy, my life appeared to be revolving around Matt’s axis ever since we’d stepped on the plane to Mexico.
And the craziest thing of all? I didn’t mind. If anything, I wanted it that way. I liked the comfort of his protective—and insanely sexy—presence, not to mention being in the know on most of the good, bad, and dirty Wonderland details.
But keeping me in the know on business wasn’t what affected me the most. It was his willingness to share little tidbits of his life. Things about his mom, his father, and even the finer details and nuances that made him the man that he was. It was those things that were my favorite.
But I guessed the hours upon hours of hot, all-consuming sex weren’t so bad either.
After a quick stretch of my arms and legs, I slid out of bed and strode my bare ass into the kitchen.
With his back to me, and only wearing a pair of black boxer briefs over his firm ass, Matt stood at the stove. The grease in the skillet sizzled as he flipped a few slices of bacon, and I merely stood there gawking.
The California sun drifted in from the big window in front of the dining table, draping a blanket of light over his body. Every sculpted muscle on his back and shoulders flowed from bright to dark. He was a living work of art, his tanned skin so tempting to touch, every simple move and flex giving away his strength.
With the spatula in his hand, he turned around. His all-knowing gaze locked with mine for a brief moment, before I couldn’t fight the urge to take in the rest of him and released the hold.
My eyes moved down, down, down, taking in his broad shoulders, his chiseled chest, the muscles of his abdominals, and that drool-worthy V muscle leading to the promised land.
God, he looks good. Hell, clothes, naked, only briefs, he always looks good.
Matt Hadder was a man. Strong. Intense. Powerful.
I wanted to eat him with a spoon.
“Enjoying the view?” He quirked a brow, and I blushed.
Giggling, I covered my cheeks with both of my hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
In the blink of an eye, Matt closed the distance between us and lifted me into his arms before setting my bare ass onto the counter. Gently, he pushed my thighs apart and moved his big body closer. “Hungry?” he asked with a smirk.
I nodded. Oh yes, I am definitely hungry…
“Fresh coffee in the pot.” He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes.”
I couldn’t stop my lips from turning down into a tiny pout. I didn’t want food for breakfast. I wanted Matt for breakfast.
“Disappointed about something?” He ran his index finger across my mouth, the line of his brow frustratingly knowing.
I shrugged and leaned closer, his intense amber eyes locking with mine.
“Later, little one,” he whispered against my lips. He slid his finger up my thigh until it reached where I was already wet for him. Slowly and without hesitation, he slid that finger inside of me, gently pumping it in and out a few times before he pulled it back out and left me aching for more. “But right now, it’s breakfast,” he said before sliding his finger into his mouth and tasting me.
Fucking hell. I clenched my thighs together. I wanted his mouth on me. Hell, I wanted my mouth on him. When it came to Matt, I found I was insatiable. Ready and willing for any attention he’d bestow.
“And then we have a meeting with a client.” He moved back to the stove, and with the spatula, worked on scrambling the eggs.
I tilted my head to the side in confusion. “We?”
He nodded. “Yep. You’re coming along for this one.”
I was going to another meeting with him? My eyes popped wide, and my throat dried up like the Sahara. I didn’t pretend to know all the inner workings of Wonderland, but I knew enough to know that every meeting held an undertone of importance and a lot of times, even risk. In Mexico, when he’d met with Jack Knave, I’d done my best to roll with it, but there was no denying, on the inside, I was shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm.
And Jesus, what in the hell would I wear to a client meeting?
Taking into consideration the attendees I’d witnessed at the numerous Wonderland parties I’d worked, I didn’t even want to guess who the mystery client was. A famous celebrity? A politician? A goddamn king?
Oh God, what if it is a king of some foreign country?
What in the hell does someone wear to meet a king?
I had a feeling my daily wardrobe of cutoff jean shorts, a tank top, and a pair of flip-flops wasn’t going to cut it. Hell, my nicest dress probably wouldn’t cut it.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. No rabbit suit required,” he teased with a soft chuckle and portioned the bacon and eggs onto plates. “I already have something picked out for you.”
“Of course you do,” I answered sarcastically.
“Mind elaborating on what you mean, little one?”
“Well, you’re Matt Hadder.”
He grinned. “I am.”
“A man who dots all of his i’s and crosses all of his t’s,” I explained. “You don’t leave anything to chance.”
With both plates in his hands, he leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “Until you.”
I leaned back and assessed his facial expression for meaning.
“I took a chance on you,” he said. “After the Devlins’ party, after I thought you’d heard more than your share of information, I still took the chance,” he clarified, and then poignantly added, “Best fucking decision I ever made.”
As Matt walked toward the dining table, my heart pumped hard and furious in my chest. He’s felt something for me from the beginning. If I weren’t careful, I’d probably end up doing something crazy like falling in love with the big, bad man.
Too late for that. You’ve already fallen down his rabbit hole…
“Come on,” he said from the table. “Breakfast is ready.”
I shook away my insane thoughts and sat down across from him. With a shaky hand, I picked up my fork and took a bite of eggs for means of distraction. But it was useless. I could feel his eyes on my face. When I looked up, his brow was furrowed.
“You okay?” he asked and I nodded.
“Are you sure?”
Nope. I’m not sure. I feel like I’ve gone mad.
“Uh-huh,” I lied and took another bite. “Just hungry.”
But it wasn’t hunger that had me feeling all fucked up.
It was the reality of the truth. My truth. I’d already fallen for him. I felt like I was Little Red Riding Hood and he was the Big Bad Wolf, and I honestly didn’t know if that made me crazy or senseless or nothing at all. But I knew one thing for certain.
With my heart on fire, I was a bad liar.
A few hours later, we were sitting outside, on the gorgeous terrace of a home that encompassed as much square footage as a football field.
Dr. Evan Saint. A world-renowned plastic surgeon whom I’d recognized instantly from a popular reality show. He was the It doctor when it came to plastic surgery and Beverly Hills. The one surgeon everyone wanted to see, but only the most exclusive could get an appointment with.
Today, Matt was discussing the finer details of a charitable event Dr. Saint was throwing to benefit children in Africa who suffered birth defects but did not have the money or medical treatment needed to fix them.
But in this case, Dr. Saint didn’t exactly live up to his name.
The party, like every other event I’d attended, was a cover.
The actual goal of the event was over my head in terms of logistics, but from what I understood, it had everything to do with money laundering—avoiding the normal tax liabilities that came with being in the top three percent.
“And my Alex will be the one running the show for your function,” Matt said, and Dr. Saint nodded in understanding. “She’ll be your primary liaison and will ensure that everything runs smoothly.”
Wait…what? My brain fought to comprehend his words.
Primary liaison? As in, I would be hosting the party?
Holy hell. Had I just gotten a promotion?