It might sound crazy, but there is something incredibly sexy about watching Hayes clean up the kitchen. The way his armsflex while he washesanddries the cookie sheets feels like its own kind of foreplay. And I shamelessly appreciate the way the denim hugs his ass when he bends over to put the trays away.
Hayes wipes down the counters and the sink once more before he hangs up the rag and looks at me.
“I guess we’re done here,” I say, looking down, and playing with the ends of my sweater, nervous that he’s going to offer to take me home now that we’re finished baking.
“Are we?”
The way he says it sends a pulse of heat through me.
I open my mouth, close it again, then tilt my head. “Aren’t we?”
He walks toward me slowly—deliberately—like he’s giving me every chance in the world to stop him.
I don’t move. I barely breathe.
When he reaches me, his hand slides around my waist, fingers dipping beneath the hem of my sweater. “We finished baking.” His voice is a low rumble. “But you and me…we’re just getting started.”
“Hayes,” his name rolls off my tongue in a breathy whisper.
He moves his hands and trails one finger down my jaw. The touch is gentle, reverent, completely at odds with the wicked promise in his eyes.
“You’ve been looking at me all night like you wanted more,” he murmurs. “And I’ve been trying—really trying—to be good.”
“Good?” I whisper.
“Respectable. Controlled. Behaving like a man who isn’t two seconds from carrying you off somewhere we won’t be interrupted.”
My knees go wobbly. “Still might get interrupted here, though. Pretty sure Evie was born with a GPS tracker located in her brain.”
“I know.” He leans down and kisses me just enough to make my pulse stutter. “But I can lock the doors. Which is why I’m asking if you want to stay a little longer?”
The soft rasp in his voice, the honesty in his eyes—it isn’t a casual question. It’s careful. It’s important.
I’m not naïve. I know what he means. And it makes my answer come out steadier than I feel.
“Yes.”
His inhale is sharp, like he didn’t expect me to say it. Then his thumb drags across my bottom lip, and a shiver races down my spine. He dips his head, his lips brushing my jaw, the edge of my throat. “I want you in my bed, Em. I want to feel you against me. I want all of you tonight.”
My fingers curl in the front of his shirt. “Mmm. That sounds very promising.”
“Good.” He kisses me. “I’m done pretending I don’t want you.”
My chest presses against his. Hayes’s hand slides up my back. His breath fans across my cheek.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
“I won’t.”
His eyes flash—relief softening him for half a heartbeat before everything inside him turns sharp. Desire flares, feral and hot, like flames in his gaze.. Then he surges forward, his mouth claiming mine with a desperate, possessive hunger, like he’s staking a claim he won’t ever let go of.
His arm wraps fully around my waist. My hands slide up his back, anchoring to his shoulders. He groans—a low, rough sound that vibrates against my lips—and the sound undoes me.
“Hayes,” I breathe when his mouth trails to my neck.
“I’ve wanted you for so damn long.” His fingers slip beneath my shirt again, tracing bare skin. “And tonight, I’m gonna show you.”
The air rushes out of me.
