"No one's stopping you."
Heat rises to my face. No one is stopping me from kissing Killian Saint except myself and that's the biggest obstacle of all. "I'm just … this is really good news. The repair guy said I needed to get a new one, and that's just the last thing I need – things are a little bit tight right now. I'm just saying thank you."
Killian nods. "I'm going to get the door back on the hinges and go wash up."
I turn away as he puts the freezer door back where it belongs, and busy myself with dumping a batch of cupcake ingredients into the mixer before pulling a small tray of cupcakes from the refrigerator and beginning to pipe frosting onto them.
Not kissing Killian is the logical thing, I tell myself. It's the smart thing. It's the not-thinking-with-the-libido thing to do. It's just an attraction, and I can ignore an attraction.
That's what I tell myself before Killian walks back into the kitchen, his footsteps heavy on the floor. I tell myself to thank him and get him out of here before my lust completely overwhelms any sense of reason I have.
I stand at the counter, staring at the cupcakes in front of me, willing Killian to just say he's leaving. But he doesn't. I feel him standing behind me, but he doesn't touch me. I nearly whimper because . . .
I desperately want him to touch me.
"Lily," he says, his voice low. His breath plays across my skin, and I shudder as goose bumps travel down the length of my arms in response to his speaking my name. I swallow hard, my feet rooted to the ground, the logical part of me saying that I should thank him politely for his help and walk away. But the irrational part of me seems to have taken over my body.
"Killian," I say, half a warning and half a moan.
"Turn around." His voice is low in his throat. He doesn't touch me, yet every part of my body seems to be on edge, every cell in my body turned on and eager for his touch. "Look at me."
But I don't turn around.
"Goddamn it, woman," he growls. His mouth is near my ear, and I whimper as he grabs my ponytail. "Tell me you want this. I have to know you want it."
I stand there silently, the weight of the question hanging in the space between us. Do I want this? More than anything I've ever wanted.
"Yes." The word escapes my lips before I can stop it, barely a whisper.
Then he touches me. He drops my ponytail and his palms, rough and calloused, slide down the length of my arms until he reaches my hands on the table. His lips graze my ear. I tilt my head, squirming at his touch as desire floods my body.
"Say it again," he orders.
"Yes." I choke out the word as his tongue flicks over my earlobe, catching the sensitive skin between his teeth. He reaches behind me, unties my apron, and slides it over my arms, then pulls my t-shirt over my head before I can reconsider. As he runs his hands over my shoulders and down my back, he grunts his approval.
"Killian," I start, but the word becomes a groan when he traces his lips along my neck, his beard rough against my skin. The roughness only intensifies the sensation and I can't help but think about the way it would feel between my legs.
"Since the second I saw you, I've thought about bending you over this counter," he says, his hand cupping my breast. My nipple hardens immediately at his touch, despite it being muted by the fabric of my bra, and when he pulls me tightly against him with his other hand, I can feel his hard cock press against my ass.
"That's not true," I whisper as his finger slips inside the cup of the bra, rough against my nipple.
"Woman, don't tell me what I've thought about," he growls into my ear. "I've thought about how I'd fuck you more times than is good for a man."
"You couldn't have thought about bending me over this counter the second you met me," I protest as he turns me around to face him. Lust is etched into his features – that much is unmistakable. "Since you didn't know I had this kitchen."
"The second I saw you in this kitchen, then," he amends. He tries to pull me against him but I hold up my hands, the tips of my fingers coated in blue and pink frosting.
"Let me just go wash –"
He doesn't let me finish. Instead, he takes one hand and brings it to his mouth, his lips enveloping my finger before I can protest any further. He does it slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he does the same thing to the fingers on my other hand. Holy shit.
He wraps his hand around my wrists. "There. Now you stay."
You stay, he says.
Just like that.