He had been buttoning up his red flannel shirt when he walked out, giving me my second glimpse in a row of his gorgeous chest. He not only had amazing broad shoulders, fine-tuned to perfection, but he had chest hair—the perfect amount of chest hair.
I didn’t know why I found that attractive, but I did. Hair on a man’s back—no thank you. Hair on a man’s chest—yes, please. I loved how a man’s chest hair felt scratching up against me, and I just knew that Hector’s wouldn’t disappoint.
The batter was ready, so I slowly poured my mix onto the griddle. I’d honestly been surprised to find a griddle, but I assumed whoever lived here before had left it.
Five minutes later, I had my first batchof pancakes on a plate and was pouring the next batch. I heard the door open and close and Sarge’s claws scurry down the hallway. He started to whine as I finished setting the mixing bowl down.
“Whatever delicious thing you are making, do not give him any,” Hector said, walking into the kitchen.
I turned to see Sarge looking up at me with big, pleading eyes. Hector was also looking at me. He leaned over to the side to see what I was making and then looked back at me again before a small grin broke out on his face.
“I think you’re wearing some of your batter,” he said.
I immediately looked down at the front of my shirt. Since I had a large chest, that was usually where stuff fell. I still had on my black cotton shorts and oversized, faded grayGolden GirlsT-shirt that I had slept in, but I had managed to at least put on a bralette for support. However, bralettes weren’t much, so they didn’t leave much to the imagination.
Not seeing anything on my shirt, I looked back up to Hector, only to see his eyes had followed mine to my chest. His eyes were now full of heat and lust.
“I don’t see anything,” I told him, hating to take away that lustful look on his face, especially knowing I was the reason for it.
His eyes finally moved back up to my face, and he took two steps forward and used his thumb to wipe something from my forehead.
Crap. I must have wiped some on there when I pushed my hair back from my face.
“Do I have any in my hair?” I asked.
His eyes scanned the top of my head before looking back into my eyes.
“No, just your forehead,” he responded and then curled his lip. “For now.”
“I’m making pumpkin spice pancakes. The first batch is ready if you want some.”
“Why did you make me pancakes?” he asked, looking at me very confused.
“I like cooking and thought it would be nice,” I told him, because I wasn’t sure what the issue was.
“Even after everything last night?” he asked.
I realized he probably assumed I was mad at him, so making a nice gesture clearly seemed weird.
“Hector, I’m not mad at you,” I told him, hoping to clear the air. “I wish you would realize your broodiness and your past are not deterrents to me, but I’m also not going to be a jerk to you just because you don’t want to be with me. I’m just not going to force myself on someone who simply doesn’t want to be with me.”
“Iris,” he said, stepping closer to me. “Let me make something very clear. I want you. I want you more than I have wanted any other woman, but you deserve better than me, and if I let myself have you, I’ll end up breaking you—ruining you.”
“What if I want to be ruined?” I asked quietly, staring up into his eyes, clearly ignoring the red flag he was waving in my face.
He stared back at me for a long time.I could hear the pancakes sizzling—likely burning—but I couldn’t break away from his gaze. It was so intense, so powerful, I couldn’t have broken away if I’d tried.
I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, his mind warring over what was the right thing to do.
I knew he was never going to make the first move, so I decided to be the brave one.
I leaned forward and put my hands on his chest, continuing to stare right into his eyes.
“Iris.” His deep voice made it clear that he was sending a warning not to cross that line.
Too late. I felt like being a line crosser today, because on the other side of that line was a sexy man who I knew would be worth it.
I leaned up on my tippy-toes and put my lips to his. He was stiff underneath me, as if frozen in time. He may not be reciprocating my kiss—yet—but he also wasn’t pushing me away, so I sallied forth into the unknown.
