I flip the pancakes on the stove and turn around at the sound of footsteps padding across the hardwood floor.

“Oh my god,” Cara moans. “You cook, too?”

I flash her a grin and wink. “Sexy, right?”

She laughs. “You have no idea.”

She’s the one that has no idea. She’s sexy as fuck standing in my kitchen in nothing but my dress shirt I wore last night, only buttoned enough to keep her tits from hanging out. Though I should walk right over and remedy that. Because the only thing better than her in my shirt is her out of my shirt.

I set the spatula down and give her a hard kiss on the lips, my hands going down to cup her ass. I find her bare beneath my palms, and my dick is instantly hard. Dipping my tongue into her sweet mouth, I stroke her slowly, then slide my fingers between her thighs.

She gasps, and I feel her pussy flood with her juices. I pull back and watch her face as I dip my finger inside for a second, then pull it out and lift it to my mouth, sucking her taste from my finger.

She gapes. “That is so fucking hot.”

I wiggle my eyebrows. “I’d eat you out right now if it didn’t mean I’d burn breakfast.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she says coyly.

Slapping her ass, I laugh. “You only say that because you haven’t tasted homemade pancakes a la Liam. Complete with homemade whipped cream and fresh strawberry syrup.”

“You’re joking.”

I lift my eyebrows. “About food? Never.”

Returning to the stove, I pull the pancakes from the pan and stack them on a plate, then carry it over to the marble island where I’ve already laid out everything she’ll need to have a delicious breakfast.

“Have a seat.” I gesture to the barstool. “I wish I could stay and eat with you—then eat you out.” I wink. “But save me some of that whipped cream, and I’ll put it to good use later.”

She bites her lip, her face flushing with desire, but then my words sink in and she furrows her pretty brow. “Where are you going?”

“I have to work.” For the first time ever, I wish I could stay right here with her all day long. It takes a lot to pull me away from my work. I love it that much. But Cara just might be the first thing that could tempt me.

She sits at the island and puts some pancakes on the plate I’ve set out then starts to scoop strawberries onto them. “What exactly do you do, Liam? I’ve never heard any mention of your actual job. I was under the impression you were just some playboy with family money.”

Because that’s exactly what I want people to believe. It’s part of my public playboy persona. But I find that I want to tell her. I want her to know even more about who I really am.

“I have a collection of charities that I run. Some of them are for veterans that suffer from PTSD, some are for families who’ve lost someone in combat, and there are a handful of others for various causes.” I stop when I notice that she’s just staring at me, her fork poised in midair as if what I’ve said has momentarily stunned her. I shrug. “It’s my way to honor my brother.”

Cara drops her fork and hops down from the stool, coming toward me and resting her palms on my bare chest, looking up at me with something uncomfortably close to awe in her eyes. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Part of me is strangely modest, but the other part likes the way she’s looking at me.

“I think that’s amazing, Liam. Seriously. I had no idea. You’re definitely not the man the world sees.” She pauses for a second, something I don’t recognize flitting across her expression, but then it’s gone and she’s shaking her head and smiling. “I would love to do something like that for my father one day.”

I find myself thinking that I’d love to help her with that. Instead of saying it, I just capture her lips in another kiss.

I can’t believe how easy it is to open up to her like this. How easy she is to talk to. And how good it feels to actually talk about things that matter to me with someone other than Connor. I keep so much of myself hidden that I never realized how much I crave this kind of intimacy with someone.

But I can see myself sharing everything with Cara. She feels like someone I could spend all my time with and never get tired of. Someone that I can actually be intimate with. I’ve opened up to her, and she seems to like what she sees.

Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been missing out on so much by keeping up my playboy persona. Missing having someone to share my life with. Share the things that actually matter. Things that mean something.

And I realize that I want that. With Cara.

Fuck, it hits me hard, and I don’t know how to handle it. A funny little feeling in my chest makes me pull back from our kiss. I just want to look at her for a minute. Capture the picture of her standing there in my shirt, her hair still mussed from last night. She looks good and thoroughly fucked—by me—and it’s a look that I love on her.

One I could get used to. Her in my house in the mornings.

Fuck, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I chuckle at the thought. This girl. She’s totally unraveled all my carefully constructed barriers. And in a matter of days.

“What?” she says, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes that make me want to spread her across my counter and bury myself deep inside her.

I sigh and shake my head. I really need to get to work. I have a video conference in less than thirty minutes.

I kiss her nose. “Just thinking about how much I want you right now. But it’ll have to wait for later. Make sure you save some of that whipped cream,” I remind her with a salacious grin.

I tell her she can stay as long as she wants, then I go get ready for the day. When I leave her there in my apartment with the breakfast I made for her, I can’t wipe the goofy-ass grin off my face. I’ve definitely been missing out on something, and I didn’t even know it.