Sahara (A Night Fire Novel Book 3) by TM Watkins

squawking for her bottle, maybe he'd had the sense to feed her without me prompting him.
    I watched as Fraser went about making his breakfast, a little stunned at how good the view was. A long line parted his body in half, a shallow gouge for his spine. His shoulders were broad slowly tapering down to narrow hips. By appearances it would seem that the only fatty part on his body was his backside and god damn it was a fine one. Recording into the memory bank for sick fantasy number two.
    He turned and saw me, giving me a smirk and a tip of the chin. When he turned back to the stove I looked down. I really had to find my dressing gown or dress before I left the bedroom. Fraser set two plates out, sliding eggs and bacon onto each of them. The toaster popped, frightening the life out of me.
    “Hurry up before it goes cold.”
    I padded across the wood floor, lifting myself up onto the stool at the breakfast bar. Fraser still had a smirk on his face as he turned back to the toaster and put two pieces of bread in. Thankfully I couldn't see below the counter which was at his waist. He turned back and dumped the tub of butter in front of me.
    Stupidly I looked up, his gaze pinned to me somewhere as his hands rested on the edge of the counter. A broad stance as he quietly waited for his toast.
    “Thanks.” I offered, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.
    I ducked my head down, concentrating on buttering my toast rather than mapping his torso. Fantasy number three was mapping it with my tongue. A sharp thrill coursed through me, I gripped the butter knife hard as I tried to stifle the growing need. It wasn't working. Not when he stood more upright and scratched his chest. I found myself biting my lip again as I watched his hand moving across his stomach.
    The whole view burned into my mind, a soft smattering of hair on his sternum, tribal tattoo that ventured from his upper right arm and onto his chest. Another one of his heart, two roses with a banner that read mom and dad.
    I looked back down at my plate, trying to be more interested in scraping the butter over the hot toast. I'd forgotten about his past. When given this job I was given a brief outline of each of them. Jerry thought it was in my best interest to know everything that was necessary so that I could keep a good eye on them. Curtis had issues with his family that caused him to drink heavily, Frankie was his saving grace. Austin was quiet for no real reason, his parents loved him and by appearances his life was good. Evan was the product of a teen mother, his father thrown in jail for it and as far as I knew he hadn't spoken to him ever. Jaxon had spent his early years being shipped around family members because his mother was a mess from substance abuse. When his father cleaned himself up he took custody of Jaxon and settled in Vegas with the new wife.
    But Fraser was a whole different world. His formative years were exceptional, loving parents, a caring home with an older brother and everything that he ever wanted. Then life crashed down around him. The band was in New York doing a charity event when Jerry got a call that by his own admission almost killed him. Fraser's brother Tyler was on something and killed their parents. Jerry glazed over which particular demon it was but it was enough for him to go a little psychotic and believe that his parents were trying to kill him. He gave me another glazing over of the facts, the lawyers tried to go for temporarily insane then the self-defense route but the judge saw straight through him and convicted him. So Tyler is doing life in jail and Fraser is alone in the world, except for those in his inner circle. His inner circle consisted of the band members and their families, Jerry and El and one aunt who lived somewhere in Utah.
    His aunt Mirabelle was all that he had left as family now, real family that is. She had been there for him in the days after the murder and when the trial was going on but Jerry mentioned she couldn't