“You didn’t like my show? It was just for you.” He carries me over to the counter and sits me down on top of it, settling his body between my thighs. His hands run up my arms, brushing lightly over my shoulders and up my neck as he slowly traces my throat with his fingers.
“I loved your show. But I don’t like not being able to get to you. I was dying out there.” I smile and press my forehead against his as he trails his fingertips down my neck and over the top of my breasts. “You look beautiful by the way,” he says softly before pressing his lips firmly against mine. I open for him, allowing his tongue to dip softly into my mouth. His kisses aren’t urgent this time. They’re slow and lasting, as if he’s savoring this moment with me. Swallowing my moans, his breath comes out in hot spurts and fills me with my favorite minty flavor. I press my chest against his as his hands wrap around my waist and slowly stroke my back, my hands clamped behind his neck. We both break away at the same time, our foreheads reclaiming their spot against each other’s and our uneven breathing surrounding us.
“Missed your face,” I say, regretting it instantly because he didn’t need to know that. Crap. I have an orgasm and drop my guard like an amateur.
“Just my face?” he asks playfully. He brushes my hair behind my ear and runs his fingers through the waves.
I shake my head and begin slowly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes close and a tiny sound of pleasure escapes him, making me smile. “I missed your face too,” he replies as he reopens his eyes and traces down the sides of my temples, across my cheekbones, and down to my lips where I kiss the tips of his fingers.
His words warm me the way they shouldn’t and I know I need to break this moment before I say something I really don’t want him to know. I’m not only weak when it comes to sex around this man. He is slowly infiltrating every part of my soul. “Want a tour?” His lips pull up in the corner and he steps back, holding out his hand to help me off the counter. I quickly drop my hand out of his before I become too familiar with the sensation and walk through the doorway that leads to the kitchen. Flipping on the lights, I walk around the large workbench, feeling him watch me from where he stands.
“Okay, so this is where I spend my time whipping up my fabulous creations and trying desperately not to eat them, which I usually fail at miserably.” I motion around the room and hear a soft laugh from his direction. “Storage, fridge, freezer, and oh, shit.” I spot a vat of icing that I’d made earlier this morning when I was testing out a new recipe. Grabbing the bowl I’d placed on the shelf, I stick my pinky finger into the hot pink frosting and slip it into my mouth.
“Mmm, yummy,” I say as I flick my eyes up to Reese who is perched against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s watching me with concentrated interest, which I’m beginning to notice is a pattern of his. “Oh, I found this recipe for chocolate peppermint frosting and had some extra time this morning to play around with it. Until I realized I didn’t have extra time, and I stupidly left it out.” I lick my lips and his eyes widen. “Wanna taste?”
“Sure,” he answers, moving toward the workstation. I hop up on top of it and wait patiently for him to stand in front of me, as his hands rest lightly on my thighs.
I dip my finger into the frosting. “Open,” I command, holding my finger in front of his now slightly swollen lips. They curl up into a small smile before he opens his mouth, his tongue wrapping around my finger and pulling every last bit off. Jesus, he could probably get me ready for sex just by licking an envelope in front of me.
“Good?”
“Very, especially coming off you.”
“I love mint chocolate. I think it’s the perfect union of flavors.” I dip another finger into the frosting and pop it in my mouth as he licks his lips.
“I think you’re the perfect union of flavors,” he responds, causing me to grin even wider.
“Want some more?” I go to reach my finger into the bowl when he grabs it, taking the bowl out of my hands, and placing it next to me on the workstation. Dipping his own finger into the bowl, he runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he swipes the hot pink frosting down the side of my neck to my cleavage. I whimper as his tongue licks off the line of frosting he’s drawn, paying extra attention to the dollop that is now dripping between my breasts.
“Lift your arms,” he whispers, grabbing the hem of my shirt and tugging it over my head after I obey him. His eyes enlarge and flick from my face to my shoulders, his face hardening instantly. Oh, fuck.
“What the hell? What happened to you?” His fingers trail the small fingertip-sized bruises that graze over my shoulders and I wince at him. Moving my hair out of the way, he leans around me and I hear a soft grunt as he discovers the bruises on my upper back. Shit. I meant to keep my clothes on. This conversation could have been easily avoided. Damn him and his ability to cloud my judgment.