“What—”
Kayleigh spins around, revealing one of my ACDC T-shirts draped over her curvy frame. Judging by the long expanse of bare leg, I suspect she’s not wearing any shorts beneath it. Just that red thong.
“You said to make myself at home,” Kayleigh says, flashing me a smile.
“I don’t think I used those exact words?—”
“So you don’t want a cookie?”
My stomach rumbles on command, reminding me how long it’s been since I had a bite to eat. My appetite has been wonky ever since I brought Kayleigh back to the ranch. I did my damnedest to focus on working, but my mind kept drifting back to the woman I knew was in my house—all alone. The same woman who’s let me know, in no uncertain terms, that she’d like me to fuck her senseless.
“Why are you baking?”
“I stress bake,” she answers with a carefree shrug.
“Being here stresses you out?” I ask, feeling a twinge of guilt in my chest. I mean only to keep her safe. To keep her away from that fucking auction that’ll run every night until Christmas. But I never once thought bringing her here would cause her distress.
“I mean, the place is…bland. A little boring. But it’s not stressful.”
“Oh.” My tense shoulders relax as I approach the kitchen island. I fixate my gaze on the cookies, mostly to keep it off of Kayleigh’s bare legs. My cock’s already at half mast, and considering I marched out here in nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs, it wouldn’t take much for Kayleigh to discover just how much I want to fuck her.
“These cookies are my mom’s recipe.”
“Your mom likes to bake?” I guess, swiping one from the counter.
“Shelikedto bake. Past tense.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Kayleigh?—”
“Thank you, but don’t make a big thing of it. She’s been gone for almost a decade, and if I start talking about her too much, I’ll just cry. Things are already awkward enough, right?” Her gaze drops to my cock, then back up. “Anyway, try one. They’re the best.”
I step up to the island, hiding my growing erection beneath the counter, and bite into a cookie. And moan.
Fuck, they’re not just good.
They’re amazing.
“Good, right?”
“Better than good. You really made these?”
“Well, it wasn’t Meatloaf.”
I let out a laugh, glancing down the hall, but there’s no trace of the cat who woke me out of a dead sleep.
“Put that thing away,” Kayleigh teases.
“What?” I ask, my gaze dropping to my boxers.
“I meant your smile. That thing’s lethal.” She rounds the counter, slowly stalking up to me. If I had any sense left in my very tired brain, I’d go back to bed and lock the door behind me. Instead, I stand there, turning away from the shelter of the island, revealing my pitched tent as though it’s a fucking offering.
“This?” Kayleigh nods at my crotch. “This can definitely come out and play.”
I mean to catch her wrist before her fingertips graze the fat tip of my cock through my boxers, but I don’t try very hard. Hell, maybe I’m just too tired to fight what I want most. I can’t stop picturing Kayleigh pleasuring herself in that sea of silk.Iwant to be the one to make her cry out. I want to watch her writhe at my hand.
“Youdoown me, Elliot,” she says, circling her hand over my length and giving it a squeeze. “At least for a few days.”
“You know it’s not like that,” I insist, grabbing for her wrist at last. “I’mnotgoing to fuck you, Kayleigh.”
