I wait for his reply and it never comes. After ten minutes of staring at my phone, I set it down beside me and pick my Kindle back up. As I’m scrolling through my list of books, trying to decide on my next book boyfriend, there is a knock on the door.

Not expecting company, but there are a lot of college kids who live in this building who often need to borrow things, like a cup of sugar. Seriously, that actually happened. We’ve also had a late–night knocker who was drunk off his ass asking if we had any condoms. Nicole felt sorry for him and gave him one. She’s always the Girl Scout, always prepared. She doesn’t sleep around, but says it helps to be ready in case the moment’s right.

I look through the peephole and gasp at what I see. Maxton is standing outside my apartment door. What the hell is he doing here? I quickly scan my body. I’m in my yoga pants and tank, and my hair is in a knot on top of my head. No make-up. I start to panic having him see me like this. He knocks again.

“Kensington,” he says through the door.

Shit! Maybe this is a good thing. I don’t need to add to the chemistry or whatever in the hell it is that sparks between us. Maybe this look will turn him off and get him off my back. Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, I open the door.

HOLY… FUCK ME! Kensington finally opens the damn door and the sight of her has me hard as a rock. Just like that, first look and I’m steel. I drop my eyes to her bare feet and bright pink toenails. I slowly scan my way up her legs, those hips, trim waist in that tight tank. I reach her breasts and I swear it takes effort to not swallow my damn tongue. Full. Firm. Mouthwatering. What I wouldn’t give to feel their weight in my hands, to have my mouth on them, savoring her taste.

She clears her throat and reluctantly, I lift my gaze to find her smirking at me. “Maxton.” My name rolls off her tongue. No one calls me Maxton, just Max. My mom is the only one who does and, well, I never talk to her she’s no longer a part of my life. I used to hate being called by my full name for that very reason, but something about the way Kensington says it in her sexy voice. Yeah, I’m good with it.

“Kensi,” I call her by the nickname that just came out last night. “I’m here for the visual,” I tell her.

“Visual?” She tilts her head to the side to study me. “What are you talking about?”

I smile. I knew she wouldn’t be expecting me. “Laundry.”

Her mouth drops open in shock. “You drove over here to make sure I was really doing laundry?” she asks, incredulous.

I step toward her. I’m still standing in the doorway, and that just won’t do. She doesn’t know it yet, but she found herself a laundry buddy. I need to crack her defenses and get her under me. I’m not used to the chase, and it’s fucking with me. This shit needs to happen, soon. “Yes, pretty girl, laundry,” I say, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. I pull my hand away and walk past her to the couch.

“Please, come in,” she says dryly.

“Thanks,” I quip. I can play this game all day long.

I sit down on the couch and reach for her tablet or whatever it is. This gets her moving. She launches herself at me and pulls it out of my hands. I could have fought her, but I don’t want her to kick me out, not yet anyway.

“Hands off the Kindle, buddy.” She glares at me.

I throw my head back and laugh at her. She has the most serious look on her face. Her serious turns into a scowl and I quickly zip up my laughter. “What’s the big deal?” I ask her. My voice is indifferent, but really, I would like to know.

“This is my life. I never leave home without it,” she says, clutching it to her chest. “I love to read; it takes me away.” She barely whispers the last part. Had I not been hanging on every word, I might have missed it.

“So what do you read?” I’m intrigued. I’ve never met anyone like her. Then again, I spend most of my time with chicks who are open to one-night stands and hang out in bars. Kensington is definitely a higher caliber than what I’m used to.

I watch as her neck goes pink and the color travels to her cheeks. Who knew a blush could be sexy? “You’re holding out on me.”

She closes her eyes. “Romance mostly,” she says, eyes still shut.

I can’t control my hand as it cups her cheek. “Open your eyes, Kensi.” I wait until she’s looking at me. “Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are. This,” I say, pointing at her chest where her Kindle is still clutched, “is a part of who you are. Never hide that. There’s nothing wrong with reading.” It’s actually really nice that this is her passion. I’m used to chicks who’s only passion is to seduce every man within a one hundred-mile radius. Women without depth and drive, their only worry is who is in their bed next. Kensington has both and so much more. I fight back a groan at the thought of what else she has. Her tight-ass tank causes her breast to play peek-a-boo as she leans over and sets the Kindle on the table.

Fighting back a groan, I change the subject. “So where is this mountain of laundry?”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Come on, Mr. I-need-proof, let’s get this over with.” She stands from the couch and heads down the hall. I trail after her, watching the sway of her hips in those pants. We reach what I assume is her bedroom door. She opens the door and waves her arms. “Tada,” she says with dramatic flair.

I chuckle as I survey what’s in front of me. There are three piles sorted on the floor. One pile in particular catches my eye. Bras, barely-there panties, and thongs, this must be the intimates pile. As if my dick wasn’t hard enough already at the sight of her. The chuckle dies on my lips as I stare at that pile of lace. I can’t wait to be the one to peel every piece off her.

“Well?” Her voice breaks my stare of her piles of laundry—of that pile.

“Three loads, really? You turned down an afternoon with me and our best friends for three loads of laundry?”

“Four loads of laundry, smartass. I’ve already got a load in the washer,” she fires back.

I step further into her room, walk around the piles, and sit on her bed. I immediately regret the action as her sweet scent surrounds me. Leaning back to rest my weight on my hands, I touch silk. Kensington is beside me in an instant reaching for this new treasure I’ve just discovered. I’m faster as I tighten my grip around the silk with one hand and catch her hand with the other.

I bring what appears to be a barely there nighty to my face and inhale. The feel of the soft silk against my skin infused with her scent has my dick fighting for release. She reaches for it again with her spare hand. I adjust my hold and wrap my arm around her waist, bringing her to stand between my legs. Her hands go to my shoulders to balance herself against the sudden change in position.

“Is this what you slept in last night?” I ask, my voice gruff.

The blush is back; light pink coats her skin. I watch as she swallows hard and slightly shakes her head yes.

Both of my hands are now on her hips, her tank has ridden up and my fingers gently caress her soft skin. Her chest is rising and falling with each deep breath she takes. I’m encouraged to know that I’m not the only one affected. My hands slowly lift her tank as the soft skin of her belly is exposed. I need to taste her. Leaning forward, I place a soft kiss right above her belly button. Her body quivers under my lips. Gently nipping at her skin with my teeth, I quickly soothe the site with my tongue. “Maxton…” she breathes. The sound my name on her lips, her voice laced with desire, has me ready to blow my load like a fucking fifteen-year-old.

My hands cup her ass cheeks as I bring her body closer to my mouth. It’s my mission to have my lips on every part of her.