“I’ve wanted this,” she admits, her fingers tangling in my hair. “For so long.”
I pull back, just enough to look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from our kisses, her eyes dark with want.
“How long?” I ask, needing to know.
She laughs, breathless. “Since you fixed my oven at 11 PM and cursed the entire time.”
I blink, surprised. “That was the second week you were here.”
She nods, biting her lip. “I know.”
“You hid it well,” I mutter, trailing my thumb across her lower lip.
“Did I?” She arches an eyebrow. “I thought I was being painfully obvious, what with all the baked goods and dinner invitations and flour fights.”
I grunt. “I thought you were just...like that.”
“Like what?”
“Friendly. Annoying. Persistent.”
She laughs again, the sound vibrating through her body and into mine where we’re pressed together. “Well, I am all those things. But I’m also very specifically into you.”
The words send a surge of heat through me.
“Good,” I say, my voice low. “Because I’m very specifically into you too.”
Her eyes widen, and then she’s kissing me again, her hands everywhere—my shoulders, my chest, my horns. Each touch sends sparks along my skin.
I want to devour her.
I want to take my time with her.
I want everything.
When we pull apart, both breathing hard, she looks up at me with a mixture of wonder and mischief.
“So,” she says, tracing a finger along the curve of my horn, “your place or mine?”
I growl, the sound rumbling up from deep in my chest. “Mine. Bigger bed.”
She shivers slightly, and I can smell the spike in her arousal. “Good point.”
I set her down gently, suddenly aware that we’re still in her kitchen, with the half-eaten cake and the burn ointments still on the counter.
She sways slightly, steadying herself against my chest. “Just let me lock up.”
I nod, reluctantly stepping back to give her space.
As she moves around the kitchen, turning off lights and grabbing her keys, I watch her—the flush still high on her cheeks, the slight tremble in her hands, the way she keeps glancing at me like she can’t quite believe this is happening.
I know the feeling.
When she’s ready, she turns to me, her expression suddenly shy. “Ready?”
I hold out my hand to her.
She takes it without hesitation.
