“Trust me, you don’t want to touch me until I’ve showered.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It’s been a day,” I told her.
“Well then, go shower. Are you hungry?” Grace asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way I felt when Grace was this close.
“Starving,” I assured her.
“Good. Dinner’s ready whenever you are,” Grace declared, pushing up on her toes and kissing me so quickly I almost missed it.
“You cooked?” I asked, shocked. I hadn’t expected to come home to a home-cooked dinner. I’d spent the drive back wondering if I had enough bread to make grilled cheese before I passed out.
“I’m not just a pretty face you know,” Grace retorted, opening the front door.
“No you’re not, Grace Hamilton. You’re so much more. Trust me, I know.”
I toed off my boots and stepped inside only to be assaulted by the scent of cheese and tomatoes. I breathed in, my stomach gurgling loudly.
“Go shower, and I’ll heat the rolls,” Grace instructed, and I wasn’t about to argue. It smelt incredible, and the sooner I got out of these filthy pants the sooner I could get into hers.
I peeled off my filthy clothes, dumping them in a pile at the door, and strutted through the living room. Grace ogled my ass as I passed by, and I clenched. When I tossed a glance back over my shoulder, I saw her cheeks burn pink. Busted!
I raced through my shower, making sure I washed all the gunk, grime, and whatever else I had on me before shaving and washing my hair. Grace didn’t need to smell that shit. I stepped onto the bathmat and wrapped a towel around me, then realized something.
Everything was clean.
My towel was fluffy and smelt like fresh linen.
The sink was spotless. The toilet paper had been restocked.
“Holy fuck,” I gasped, shocked. Grace had cleaned my bathroom.
I dried my hair before wrapping the towel around my waist and spraying on some deodorant. This woman was something else. I hurried, getting ready before slipping out of the bathroom across the hall into my bedroom and pulling on some sweats and a T-shirt. Suddenly I wasn’t aching, and the exhaustion of the day had evaporated.
I strode into the kitchen to find Grace bent over, ass in the air taking a tray out of the oven. My palm itched to smack her ass, but the last thing I wanted was for her to get burned.
“Something smells amazing in here,” I commented, burying my hands in my pockets and trying to stop myself from giving in to temptation.
“It’s nothing special,” Grace brushed off as she set the tray on the counter.
All I could see was perfectly golden bubbling cheese. My mouth watered. “Is that …?”
“Lasagna,” Grace finished. “It’s nothing special really,” she added, taking off her oven mitts and tossing them on the counter.
I wasn’t about to let her get away with playing it down. She’d cooked for me. She’d gone shopping so she could cook for me. She was getting all the praise and gratitude she deserved.
I crowded her against the sink, my arms holding onto the counter caging her in. “It is special. You made it,” I pointed out.
“It might be terrible.”
“It won’t be.”
“How do you know? I’m not the best cook. Georgia …”
I didn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence. Instead, I sealed my lips over hers in a bruising kiss. What started out as a simple kiss escalated quickly. I ground myself against her, my sweatpants giving me no restraint. Grace wound her arms around me and dragged her fingers through my hair.
By the time we came up for air, my cock was as hard as a lead pipe and I was ready to have her for dinner.
