lands him in boiling hot waters. When his company orders him to the LOVE ADDICTS ANONYMOUS Rehab Center, he better get his affairs in order or else he loses his seat on the company board.
Love isn't supposed to be addictive.
But for Vicky Sullivan it is.
A true romantic at heart, she comes with a bit of a stalking tendency, and is completely not adverse to commitment. But who's Kade to judge? As someone who's seeking commitment and afraid of never finding love, she's the type of woman he wouldn't usually hit on.
"Changed your mind after all?" The voice is deep and husky. For a moment, I'm immobilized as he continues, "I think bedrooms are a bit overrated, but what the hell? If that's your thing, I'm up for it."
It's the same guy.
I turn to face him, my gaze strangely drawn south, and find that a thin towel is wrapped around his hips, covering his junk.
I let out an exasperated snort.
It's really tiny. The towel, that is.
Not his tool.
That one's about the biggest I've ever seen, counting TV and Internet pop-ups.
I don't want to gawk, and yet I find my gaze glued to the clearly defined bulge beneath that towel.
In the bright light spilling in through the large bay windows, I can see everything. There's no denying he still has a raging erection, as though pleasuring himself wasn't nearly enough to still his sexual appetite.
"Seriously?" I ask, pointing to the towel. "Can't you put something on?" My voice sounds strangled, breathy, which I attribute to the fact that I'm highly uncomfortable standing in front of a hot guy built like a Greek god and hung like a donkey.
"What's so important that you had to interrupt?"
"I interrupted?" My jaw drops, and white hot flashes of anger begin to cloud my vision. "Oh, you're talking about your date with your right hand. Sorry about that." I smirk. "What are you doing here?"
His brows shoot up. "Here?"
"Yes, here in my apartment."
