She stretched, and my t-shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of her stomach. My hands itched to touch that skin. To see if it was as soft as it looked.
"Smells amazing," she said, getting to her feet.
"Come sit at the counter. Keep me company."
She padded over, still wrapped in one of my plaid blankets, and climbed onto a bar stool. I went back to the stove, checked the garlic bread I had warming.
"You really know your way around a kitchen," Lena said.
"Living alone, you learn." I plated the chicken parm, added pasta, set it in front of her. "Or you survive on tea and toast."
She laughed at that, and the sound did something to my chest.
I loved making her laugh, loved the way it pierced through my rib cage and flooded my veins.
Sitting down beside Lena, our knees brushed against one another and immediately I became hard. Something primal roared inside of me, demanding that I find a way inside of her body. That I find a way to fuck her.
To claim her.
"This looks incredible," she said, twirling pasta on her fork.
I watched her take the first bite. Watched her eyes close. Watched a small sound of pleasure escape her lips that went straight to my dick again. Goddamn it, I wanted to bend her over the counter and slam into her.
"Good?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.
"So good." She opened her eyes, caught me staring. "What?"
"Nothing. Just like watching you enjoy something I made."
Her cheeks flushed. She knew exactly what I meant.
"You're staring again," she said softly.
"Can't help it."
We ate in silence for a moment, but the air between us was thick. Heavy.
Charged.
At some point, my hand slid beneath the edge of the blanket and settled on the warm cotton sweats covering her legs. I felt her tense for just a second and then she relaxed under my touch. The corners of her mouth eased into a smile as she took another bite of the food.
Instead of pushing me away, I felt her legs slowly open, inviting me in.
She didn't push me away.
Instead, she took another bite of food, and I felt her legs shift slightly. Opening.
Inviting.
"Lena," I said, my thumb stroking slow circles against the sweatpants. "Tell me something."
"What?" Her voice was breathless.
"Are you wet right now?"
She nearly choked on her pasta. "Killian…"
"Because I think you are." I leaned closer, my hand sliding higher. "I think watching me cook for you turned you on. I think sitting here in my clothes, in my cabin, knowing you're stuck here with me, it's doing something to you."
