The Revolution (11 page)

I PARK JUST
inside the gate. There are no other cars at Kaz’s new house, so I’m not sure if I should wait in my car or see if the door is open for me. I decide to get out and walk up. The house is great, a beautiful Mediterranean. From the outside, it’s one I’d be interested in if I was in the market to buy a new house. Deep green vines cover the walls on either side of the entrance that are anchored by large planters and that house large black wooden doors that look old from time instead of design.

After being on Calliope’s project for months, it’s a nice break to work on a man’s house. The lines and design tend to be less over the top, even with the history of the home coming into play.

I check the front door and it opens, so I go inside. I cross through the foyer and enter the main room; large dark wood beams highlight a vaulted ceiling that gives the space an airy, but impressive feel. There’s a back wall of what appears to be glass pocket doors showing off the beauty of the landscaping. I love the warmth and see why he bought it.

The only piece of furniture in the room is not furniture at all. A beautiful black baby grand piano is tucked in the corner. No guitar like I expected, but he’s not moved in yet. The bench is protected between the wall and the instrument. Drawn to it, I admire the shiny lacquer and the scale. It’s perfect in this room.

“The house has been well maintained,” Kaz’s voice greets my backside.

I turn with a smile, my back against the piano. “It has been. It’s beautiful.”

“So are you.” He comes closer. “It’s good to see you.”

I can’t help feeling coy, and I know I’m blushing just from his smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Leaning in, he kisses me on the cheek, then whispers, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Just as he’s about to move away, I hold him and kiss under his jaw. “You’ve been on my mind since you left.”

We stand in the middle of the room. His body is relaxed under my hands and his scent is masculine and calming. His hands are on my hips and our bodies close the distance. I can feel his heart beating steady and mine steadies in sync.

The back of my head is stroked and the gesture is so loving that I close my eyes, wanting to stay in this moment for as long as I can.

A sharp inhale is heard and his breath covers my neck followed by a sweet peck. He whispers, “Would you like to eat or have a tour first?”

“Give me the tour and start with this,” I reply lowly, weak to this man.

A smile plays on his lips, tempting me to kiss him. He says, “The piano is one of the few items I own. It’s a Steinway. Other than the house, it’s my biggest splurge.”

“Do you play?”

“I play.”

“Will you play for me now?”

“I doubt it’s in tune after being moved in yesterday.”

“Maybe another time?”

“Definitely another time.” He starts toward the stairs. “Ready to see the rest?”

“Lead the way.” It’s still daylight and our voices echo in the empty house, but there’s an intimacy he maintains when he takes my hand. I grab my measuring tape from my purse and leave the bag on the floor.

Signaling to the stairs, he says, “We can start in the bedroom… or mix it up and hit the kitchen first. Where do you like it?”

I love a good double entendre but this man is well versed in the language of seduction, so as much as I want to react just like my body is, I stick to the business at hand. “Kitchens are the heart of the home. Let’s start there.”

He laughs under his breath, turns, and takes me into the kitchen. He pats the wall, and says, “It opens somewhat to the living room, but I’m wondering if we take down part of this wall if the kitchen, this breakfast area, and the living room can flow even better.”

Standing in the middle of the breakfast area, I look behind me and into the kitchen. “I see what you mean. The breakfast area is really another living space and we can treat it as such. We can easily fit a table for ten in here. If we go smaller, then there’s still enough room for a couch and chair, a coffee table and barstools at the bar. From the photos online, the space wasn’t used effectively by the previous owners.” I’m about to continue as I walk into the kitchen, stopping near the island, but I feel the weight of his gaze on me, coating my insides in ways that feel new and exciting. Slowly I glance over my shoulder and find his eyes directed on me, an indiscernible expression on his handsome features.

His phone rings, shattering the building intensity and I start breathing again. When he looks at the phone, he says, “I need to take this. Feel free to walk around. I’ll catch up.” He walks to the back door and answers his phone. “Hey, what’s up?”

I take the opportunity to check out the rest of the first floor. The house really is stunning. It doesn’t shout showy or celebrity. It’s not a home most twenty-six-year-olds would choose when coming into a lot of money. It’s large, but the perfect size to raise a family and have room to grow. I can see a lifetime spent in this home, changing with the different stages of life.
It’s not just for show or to flaunt his wealth. Unlike some…
I’m impressed with his refined taste.

When I go upstairs, I start in the master bedroom. It’s the most important room on this level and will need the most attention to detail. There are several large windows facing the backyard, which appears to be at least two acres, if not more. The view is spectacular. Downtown visible in the distance. Prime old Hollywood real estate.

“The house feels good, right?”

Staring out the window, I agree. “Very good. It’s warm.” I turn around and find him leaning against the doorframe. “It’s a great home. I’m getting house envy.”

He chuckles. “You’re welcome here anytime.” Moving to the en-suite, he asks, “Have you gotten the measurements you need?”

I haven’t gotten any. I’ve been way too distracted. “Actually, I’ll send Lane out to do that tomorrow if that’s all right. He’s my right-hand designer.”

“That’s fine.” Running his hand through his hair, he questions, “What are you thinking construction wise? Much to remodel or do you like what you see?”

Looking him in the eyes, I reply, “I like what I see, and I also like the house.” A perfectly imperfect smirk resides on his face. It’s startling how disarming it is. I make a move to leave and pat his chest. “See? Two can play that flirtation game.” I leave him in the bedroom with the sound of his laughter bouncing off the barren walls.

When the tour is complete, we end up in the living room. It’s all good until my stomach decides to let the world know I’m hungry. “How about we eat?” he asks. “I brought salads and sandwiches, soups, crackers, some cheese and sausage, grapes, strawberries, and dessert.”

“That’s a lot of food.”

“I didn’t know what you’d want so I bought most of the menu.” He takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen where the bags cover one of the countertops.

“You’re very thoughtful. Thank you.”

Kaz hops up on the counter and reaches into a bag. He pulls out a handful of grapes and pops one in his mouth. “Tell me how this works.”

I hand him a strawberry while I hold on to another. “Usually you take it and touch it to your lips like this.” The strawberry glides over my bottom lip. “Then you bite it.” I take a bite, then lick the juice that’s about to drip from my lip.

His mouth is hanging open before he says, “I meant working with a designer, but I like this a lot more. Continue…”

I laugh out loud. “Ohhhh. Well, since you know how to eat a strawberry, let’s talk business. My designs depend on what the client wants. You have a Mediterranean home style wise but maybe you want a modern interior or maybe you want to match the home and bring out the home’s unique features. Or maybe we can highlight what makes you so unique. Personalizing a space is always the best. You’ll feel more comfortable when you’re home. What do you want?”

“I want you.”

“You’ve got me. I’m here. We’re talking about the house just like we planned. I’ve already talked to Lane about the project and done a preliminary design board.”

He hops off the counter and comes closer, trapping me between his arms. When he leans, he bends forward until he’s eye level. “I meant what I said earlier. I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

“You didn’t try hard enough.” I gulp from the intensity as I drag my finger down the front of his shirt.

“I didn’t want to try. I rather liked the memories, but seeing you here now…” he sucks in a rough breath, “I don’t want to talk about the house.” His lips meet mine and the two-day absence feels like a year when enjoying the bliss of this sweet pressure. I’m picked up and set on the counter. The surface is cold, the granite slick and expansive. A hard bulge teases between my legs as he pulls me to the edge, harder against him.

I lie back, my arms draped over my head. The top button of my jeans is opened, but he leaves that area, distracted by my exposed stomach. My shirt is pushed up as he slides his hands over my skin. Then I’m left alone. My head pops up and I anchor myself on my elbows to stare at him. “What happened?”

With an arrogance written across his face I know he can back up, he leans against the opposite counter, and says, “I think we should eat first.”

My gaze darts to the erection in his jeans. “Really? ’Cause it looks to me like you’d rather do other things first.” Then it hits me as I glance around. “Is this about respect? You know, you don’t want to treat me bad and do it here on the counter or whatever?”

He scoffs. “Fuck, no. I have no problem disrespecting you on the counter, or anywhere else for that matter.” His hand rubs over his cock. “I just thought I should at least feed you once before fucking you.” He comes over and grabs my ankles. One swift pull and I’m face to face with him again with my feet on the ground. When I wrap my arms around his neck, he kisses me once on the lips and again on the neck. “Let’s eat and then I’ll be more than happy to disrespect you several times over.”

He’s addicting.

Body.

Mind.

Voice.

I’m head over feet completely addicted to him.

KAZ PROPERLY DISRESPECTED
me twice before I drove home. I considered staying after being invited, but since he had no furniture we would have to go back to the place he shared with Derrick. If I had to see Derrick like that I’d feel like one of many and that’s just not a self-esteem issue I was ready to deal with after leaving his house on a high.

The next day I’m back out at his house with Lane. Kaz and Tommy show up after we have measured the three rooms we’re starting on first.

I try to remain professional, but why does Kaz have to have that dimple in his chin? Those eyes that seem to darken when his gaze lands on me? That damn shirt that fits like it was tailored to show off all his hard work in the gym? And I can’t ignore the jeans that highlight his awesome ass. He makes it so hard to resist and resisting is exactly what I should be doing on a client call.

Tommy is asking questions, curious about my creative process. “Do designers have visions or is that something I got from TV?”

I lean down and drop the measuring tape into my bag. “Sometimes I get visions and see a space’s finished design in my head.”

Kaz steps forward and with his hand pressed gently to my lower back, he says, “I can take you out back and show you the pool and hot tub.”