Masterson

ELIZABETH

A BRISK KNOCK AT THE DOOR abruptly wakes me to a sunlight drenched room, and a laptop still in my bed that's about to conk out on less than five percent battery power. I fell asleep working in bed again.

I've actually been doing this for the last few days. Staying up because the freelance coders I'm able to afford all live in India, and we're on two completely opposite time zones. The only way we can chat live to troubleshoot is if I stay up, so that's what I do. Of course this is driving Juliette completely insane. She doesn't understand what I do and why I need to stay up half the night to do it, and even if she did, all she cares about is feeding me.

"Come in," I say completely hiding under my covers. I know it can only be her, but I look like death warmed over and my morning breath is lethal. I wouldn't want to kill her with it.

"Get up, Duchess."

I jump damn near out of my skin when I hear the deep familiar voice, and squeeze my legs tightly together when I peep my head from under the covers and notice Roman leaning against the inside of the door frame with his arms crossed in front of him, dressed in only a pair of black basketball shorts, and dripping in sweat. I can literally see every ridge and hard sleek muscle in his forearms, biceps, chest, and torso. He must have zero body fat and the capability of lifting a Mack Truck. No wonder he oozes confidence and arrogance. How could he be anything but egotistical when he sees that every frackin' day in the mirror.

"I'm tired," I complain with the covers over my mouth.

"I bet," he snickers. "I heard that you've been working yourself to death up here."

"Did Juliette put you up to this? Why are you here?" Where have you been?

"Not happy to see me?"

Hell yes.

"Ugh." I pull the covers back completely over my head.

"Listen, Duchess. I'm not one for elephants in the room. So I'm just going to say it. I buried you in the backyard when we were kids. It was a shitty thing to do, but in my defense I was only ten. Let's move on."

That's the elephant in the room he wants to talk about? How about the fact that he was about two seconds away from making me come right on the dance floor of a family party? Or the fact that I've been thinking about him nonstop since we met. I'm lusting after my own cousin! So what we're not biologically related. It's still yucky. I can hear my mother now. Out of all the thousands of men in that city, you have to decide that you want to spread your legs for your cousin Elizabeth? God you're such a disappointment. Then she'd make the sign of the cross and pray for my eternal soul.

"Don't make me pull those covers off," he warns refusing to leave. "Get out of bed, nerd."

"Who are you calling-"

He whips the covers clear off of me, and I am immediately exposed and freezing. Juliette still has the central air running, and I'm only wearing a very thin neon yellow tank top and a pair of pink and white polka dot panties. My stretched out, worn out pair of panties. The ones you wear when you're almost completely out of clean panties.

Crap.

I have no doubt Roman is used to slick, worldly women who only wear lace thongs and push up bras and look like Victoria Secret models, the way I've seen women slobber over him. I'm sure I'm giving him a country mouse eyeful.

"Shit," I hear him mutter under his breath. "Where are your pajamas, Duchess?"

"This is what I sleep in genius. Get out!" All I can do is fuss at him to save face. I'm more angry at myself than anything he's said or done. Hell, I'm angry that I haven't washed clothes yet. I do own better looking underwear than this.