“Yeah. Why?”
“You’re perspiring.”
I wipe at the moisture on my forehead. “No, I’m not.”
“Okay.” She laughs. “Whatever.” Stepping into the kitchen, she asks, “Can I help?”
Yes. You could take off that hideous T-shirt with the unicorn on the front. Then, I’ll show youmyunicorn.
Holy shit! When did I become that guy? “I’m embarrassed for myself.”
“What was that?” She’s only about eighteen inches from me now. I’m muttering things to myself, and pretty soon she’s going to figure out that I’m goddamn insane.
For her.
“Nothing.”
Reaching out, Maggy leans in close enough to pick up a cube of cheese that I’ve just cut up, and that’s it.
I can’t do it.
I’ve reached my breaking point. I drop the knife and, without looking at her because looking at her would make me want to throw her over my shoulder and take her to bed, say, “Maggy.”
“Yeah?”
She’s so close.
She smells like something sweet. I’m too muddled to figure out what that is exactly.
“If you don’t want me to fuck you right here on the kitchen counter, you need to back away.”
Might as well be honest.
There’s silence between us.
I’d like to tell you it’s awkward silence, but that’s not the word I’d use.
I’d use tension. Sexual tension. I say this because when I force myself to slowly raise my head and our eyes meet, her normally light blue eyes are nearly black. Dilated.
“What if I don’t want to back away?”
I stare into her eyes, trying to decide what to say next. I should warn her. Tell her to walk away, because once we cross this line, I’m not going back.
“Maggy…”
“Nate…”
That’s it. I push away from the counter, wrap her up in my arms, press her back against the quartz countertop, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of her. My tongue is seeking hers in two seconds flat. My hands are everywhere. I pull my lips from hers and let them trace a line down her throat.
She’s got a beautiful neck.
“This has been torture.”
“I know.” Maggy cocks her neck to the side to give me more room.
“Off.” I slide my hands beneath the hem of her tee. “Take this off.”
She hesitates a moment. Which causes me to stop groping the hell out of her. “What?”God, please don’t say we have to stop.
