“I bet you did.”
When he opens the door, I see a delivery guy hand Dane a couple of bags as the massage therapists squeeze past.
He shuts the door with his foot, turns, and walks back toward me. As he passes, I can smell delicious food, but can’t exactly pinpoint it. It smells familiar.
He unpacks the bags of food, and I see the takeout containers. It's Thai food. How did he know that was one of my favorites?
With a smirk on my face, I reach over and glide my hand along his arm. I trace his muscles up and land on his chest as I take a step forward. He moves his hand down my back and over my ass, squeezing it and tugging me to him. Tonight has been surprisingly enjoyable and relaxing. I guess I didn’t know what to expect from his intrusive and protective, yet crazy, self. I’m ready to eat some food, but if he keeps his hands on me, I’m not sure if we will eat at all tonight.
As if reading my mind, he asks, “Want to eat at the table so I can have you for dessert?”
It’s hot when he talks to me like that. I fantasize about him shoving me against the wall and ripping off all my clothes.
Interrupting my dirty thoughts, he says, “Kendall? You okay? Looks like your cheeks are getting a little flushed.”
I stumble over my words. “Ah…n-o.”
I want to slap that smirk right off his face, but instead, I pat his cheek. I run my nails through his beard. He stares at me with those gorgeous caramel eyes that make my knees weak.
He leans forward, with our noses touching, and says, “You’re mine.”
If I weren’t already soaking wet, I sure as hell am now. “Am I?” I say with a snarky, teasing tone.
He strokes my cheek and lightly drags them down my neck. Goosebumps appear all over my body, my nipples tighten, and heat rushes to my core. He moves his fingers down the side of my body, tracing the outline of my figure. He lingers for a moment on my hips, and then squeezes my hip right before he pushes my shirt up. It’s just enough for him to slide his massive hand over my stomach and down my pants.
I’m so thankful I changed into more comfortable pants that have room for him. It’s like he is in slow motion as he dips his fingers into my slit.
He growls. “Yes, you’re mine. Feeling you dripping all over my fingers, sweetheart, I’m not sure we’ll be eating dinner.”
Moving his two fingers inside of me, I can’t hold it in. I whimper. That’s all it takes, and his mouth is on mine. The heat of his mouth, his tongue, the feel of his fingers, the electricity coursing through my body. My hand rubs his erection through his pants. I can’t help but tug at his belt.
“Take them off,” I mutter.
The loss of his touch leads me to press my hips toward him. He takes his thumb and slides it across my bottom lip. Tipping my head back, he strokes my neck and then kisses me right below my ear.
Shit! This guy has me gushing all over him.
“You liked that, sweetheart?”
Such a cocky bastard. I whisper, “Yes.”
I’m in this Dane fog. The minute he is in my presence, he’s all I think about. When he’s touching me, it’s like I have no sense of anything else, just him.
“We’ll pick this up after we eat.”
I watch him adjust himself, and I lick my lips. I need to have him in my mouth, to taste him, to smell him…
“You need to eat.” He breaks away from our moment and pulls out the rest of the food. Turning back, he finds the dishes and brings them to the table.
“Alright.” I look at him and say, “I’ll grab the silverware.”
We move around the kitchen as if we can predict the other's movements. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. I’m still dumbfounded. How did he know I liked Thai? Then it hits me, Jane. But when would he have asked her? Too many questions. I should just ask him.
“How did you know I liked Thai food?”
“Well, sweetheart, I pay attention and ask questions to the right people,” he says with a fork full of noodles heading for his mouth. The thought of what he can do with that mouth has me melting all over again.
TWENTY-EIGHT
