“Jules?”
She gave him an assessing glance. “I’m thinking.”
“Fine, you’re a thinker and I’m a doer, but we need to do it inside because it’s cold out here.” And then he brushed past her and walked into her home.
She frowned and closed the door behind him. “I don’t recall inviting you inside.”
He chuckled. “You’re holding my entry card in your hand,” he said, indicating the Parker’s bag. “I’d like a glass of wine, as well, and there’s enough apple pie for us to share.”
When she gave him a dirty look, he smiled and said, “I see you’re probably not too keen on sharing the pie.”
“There’s no probably in it,” she said, heading toward her kitchen.
He followed. “Don’t you know there’s pleasure in sharing?”
That one particular word stopped her short. Pleasure. She placed the bag on the kitchen counter and turned around. “Why are you here, Dalton?” Like I don’t know.
He leaned against the breakfast bar that separated her kitchen and dining room areas. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
Her lips twitched. Had that admission come grudgingly? Definitely sounded like it. “And just what have you been thinking about?”
“Do I have to tell you?”
No, he didn’t, but she wanted to hear it, anyway. “Yes, tell me, Dalton. What have you been thinking about?”
He held her gaze. “How good it felt being inside you.”
She believed at that moment her heart missed a beat. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a deep throb had started at the apex of her thighs. That’s what she got for asking. “We agreed that—”
“Do you think I don’t know what we agreed, Jules?” He rubbed his hand across his head, clearly frustrated. “Do you think I want to be here?” he asked testily. “But damn it, I like being inside you. I love the feel of your muscles clamping down tight on me while I thrust in and out of you. I love how easily your nipples slide between my lips and fit under my tongue. And I definitely love the feeling I get when my head is buried between your legs. And your taste...”
Trying to pretend that she wasn’t affected by his words, she opened the cabinet door to retrieve two wineglasses, while squeezing her legs together tightly. She fought the urge to put the glasses aside and cross the room to him, strip off her pj’s and spread her legs, because she loved the feeling she got whenever his head was buried between them, as well. And his taste...
“Jules.”
She jumped. He was standing right there in front of her. When had he crossed the room? She should be piqued he had done so, but at that moment, she was so filled with awareness of him that she couldn’t. He was staring down at her, focusing on her with an intensity that should disturb her. But strangely, it didn’t. Instead, she knew how it felt to be totally desired. Wanted. She would even go so far as to say craved. She knew, because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, whenever she thought about him, she experienced those same things. Although she doubted she would have given in to such a weakness as making a booty call like he was obviously doing. But, she had to admit, the thought had crossed her mind a couple of times since she’d returned from Miami.