“A few things. My morning repertoire is limited to eggs, bacon, and toast, though. Don’t be expecting me to flip a pancake.” Allie began to open one cupboard after another, then glanced over her shoulder at Hudson. “Plates?”

“To your left,” he said, waving a hand.

“How about you? Know your way around this fancy kitchen?” She opened the cupboard to her left, pulling out a couple white plates.

“A few things.” He frowned. “I learned early how to fend for myself, and someone had to feed Nick.”

“What about your mom?” Allie dumped the eggs into a frying pan, then reached over to pop four slices of bread into the toaster.

“She wasn’t exactly the Betty Crocker type. Besides, she was usually working.” Or drinking herself blind. “Now I have a staff to handle the shopping and cooking, leaving me time to—” he paused, letting his gaze drift leisurely over Allie’s body, lingering on her breasts “—do more important things.”

Allie’s head jerked up from the eggs cooking in the pan. “Staff? Last night when we were—”

“Fucking across the floor like a freight train?” A satisfied grin curved his lips. “Relax. I gave them the weekend off. I assumed you’d prefer it that way.”

“Looks like you also assumed I’d stay.”

“Hoped.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it as a flush spread across her cheeks. “Bacon’s almost ready. I seem to have made enough to feed all of Chicago.” Allie opened the oven and bent over to flip the bacon. “Hope you’re hungry.”

Hudson’s eyes locked on the exposed skin between her thighs. “Suddenly starved.” He pushed to his feet and strolled around the breakfast bar. “No panties. I approve.” He so fucking approved. His hands slid under the shirt and over the curves of her naked ass.

“I have you to thank for that, Mr. Chase. I believe my panties are a shredded pile of lace on your living room floor.”

Hudson grinned against her neck. “I’ll do it again if it gets me what I want.” His palms smoothed up the sides of her rib cage and the rough pad of his thumbs brushed over her nipples.

She leaned back against him, her hair soft against his bare chest. He cupped her breasts and his fingers tugged at her nipples.

“Breakfast is never going to be ready if you keep doing that.”

Removing his hands from under her shirt, he skidded the pan across the burner and flipped the gas off. “Breakfast can wait,” he said, lifting Allie onto the counter and spreading her legs wide. “I can’t.”

Chapter Seventeen

Allie rested her head on Hudson’s chest, his heart pounding against her cheek as they struggled to catch their breath. “What is it with you and floors?”

A deep laugh vibrated in his chest. “Merely taking advantage of ample square footage.”

“I’m going to attempt to make breakfast. Again.” She sat up and shot him a look of admonishment before slipping his T-shirt back over her head. “Behave yourself this time.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints on my most recent behavior.”

Her eyes raked over him lying in all his glory on the kitchen floor. Hmm, definitely no complaints. Hudson lifted his hips and pulled his pants up, putting an end to her shameless ogling. Just as well if they had any hope of ever eating breakfast. He leaned forward to tie the drawstring and she watched as his washboard abs curled into a perfect six-pack. She fought the urge to reach out and touch him as her appreciative stare roamed the contours of his naked chest. Must. Cook. Breakfast. She tore her gaze from his body, focusing instead on his handsome face, and an involuntary giggle escaped her lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You. Your hair.”

Hudson ran a hand through his unruly locks. “Bed head and amorous fingers. Quite the combination.” He flashed a broad grin as he stood, grabbing Allie by the hand and hauling her to her feet. “I believe I was promised bacon and eggs?”

“Oh, the bacon!” She spun around and opened the oven door. “Hope you like it extra crispy.”

“Perfect. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hudson pull a basic, WalMart-issue coffeemaker out of one of the cherry cabinets. “You use that instead of the Jura?” she asked, nodding toward the state-of-the-art espresso maker she knew cost well over three grand.

“It has an on/off switch. Pour water in, black coffee comes out. What more does one need?”

She leaned against the counter, watching as he plugged the Mr. Coffee into the wall and filled the carafe with water. “You don’t know how to use the other one, do you?” she asked, trying hard to hide her smile.

He stared at her impassively for a moment. “While it doesn’t produce your cappuccino with extra foam, hold the nutmeg,” he said, his lips curling into an amused grin. “I prefer to keep it simple.”

While the coffee brewed, Hudson poured them each a glass of orange juice. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“Maybe pop in a few more slices of bread?” She nodded to his Dualit toaster. “Unless, of course, you find all kitchen appliances as daunting as an espresso machine.”

“Funny, Miss Sinclair.”

They worked side by side, Allie scrambling eggs and Hudson making toast. Allie flipping bacon, Hudson setting out silverware. Allie casually eating breakfast, Hudson devouring everything but the plate.

“That was delicious, Allie. Thank you.” He swallowed his last bite and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I have a call to make and . . .” He glanced at the oven clock. “Shit, just enough time to grab a quick shower.” He stood in a rush, piling his silverware on his plate. “But take your time, finish eating.”

“I’m done.” Allie slid off her barstool, taking Hudson’s plate and stacking it on top of hers. “Go. I’ll clean up.”

“I apologize. I shouldn’t be long. Help yourself to the shower.” He cupped Allie’s chin, tilting her head back and planting a soft kiss on her lips. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to join you. Rain check?”

“Hudson, I really should go home. I don’t have any clothes.”

“You look pretty fan-fucking-tastic in my shirt, and I just happen to have a closetful.” Hudson spanked her playfully on the ass before sauntering out of the room. “Besides,” he called out over his shoulder, “I don’t plan on letting you stay dressed for long.”

After cleaning the kitchen, Allie made her way to the master bathroom. Dark cherry cabinets ran the length of one wall while two sinks with brushed nickel faucets divided an expanse of black granite. More cabinets sat atop the counter. They flanked either end of the vanity and ran clear to the ceiling, perfectly framing the oversize mirror. A large square tub dominated the far end of the room. It was encased in more black granite and was fed by a waterfall faucet protruding from the wall. While the tub was definitely big enough for two, the shower could easily accommodate five or six. The glass enclosure had two rain showerheads suspended from the ceiling and square body sprays mounted at intervals up and down the wall. Allie had seen her fair share of luxury bathrooms, but nothing quite like this. Everything about Hudson’s bathroom was dark, masculine, and larger than life. Just like the man himself.

Tossing Hudson’s T-shirt in the hamper, Allie piled her loose curls on top of her head and stepped into the stream of the body sprays. The water was warm and soothing as it pulsed against her aching muscles. Their adventures across the floor, not to mention the three . . . or was it four . . . rounds in the bed left her sore in places she’d never imagined. And now he didn’t plan on letting her stay dressed for long? She shuddered as she reached for the bar of soap. Her rational side knew she should go back to her brownstone and try to forget all about Hudson Chase. But all rational thought left her as she ran her lathered hands across her body. Allie’s eyes drifted shut as she imagined it was Hudson’s hands touching her, exciting her as they slid over her breasts, down her stomach, and between her thighs. Her eyes popped open. This was not helping.