“Oh!” She was so surprised by the bubbling, fizzing magic rushing between them that she nearly dropped the mixing bowl.
Kohl-darkened hands snapped out to grab it, keeping the flow of batter steady into the pan. “Easy,” he murmured. “Don’t want to make a mess, do we, sugar?”
His body heat radiated through the layers of her shirt and sweater, warming her back. Goosebumps pebbled her skin. His arms caged her in as he gently poured the rest of the batter into the pan, then extracted the spatula from her limp hand to scrape the bowl.
“Whatall are we having for breakfast?”
“Dutch baby.” She swallowed, but it wasn’t easy when her throat was as dry as sandpaper. “It’s a big pancake you put in the oven.”
He hummed a deep note and stepped a little closer, until his front brushed her back. Her stomach swooped low, did a little flip, and then settled back into place upside down.
“You like to cook?” He was being awfully thorough with the scraping. Was he going extra slow? If he hadn’t been so adamant about his distaste, she would have thought he was stalling for time, giving him an excuse to rub up against her back.
Nelly tucked her hands, seamlessly gloved, against her heart. The pose made her just a little bit smaller, so his arms didn’t brush her sides quite so much as he got the last of the batter out of the bowl.
She wasn’t a big fan of touch in general, but she certainly didn’t want to touch a man who was repulsed by the very idea of kissing her.
“I like to bake,” she answered, her tone a little firmer with the memory. “I’m not very good at cooking. It has too many moving parts.”
Clark chuckled. Actuallychuckled.It was that soft, huffy sort of laughter that, coming from the right person, should have been labeled a felony of the worst kind.
“I’m terrible at math, so I always steered clear of baking. I like to cook, though. I actually thought I’d help with breakfast. Didn’t think you’d do all this while I was in the shower.” He set the bowl and spatula aside, but he didn’t step away.
Instead, being the big orc that he was, Clark leaned forward and a little to one side so he could peer down at her. “You know you didn’t need to do that, right? I’d like it if we did things together. I don’t expect you to just do thingsforme.”
No. She absolutely could not process what he was saying. Her brain simply refused.
I am not ready for couple discussions! Expectations! Anything!
Choosing to misunderstand him, Nelly tried to make a nonchalant noise in the back of her throat and reached for the pan. Using the need to put it in the oven as an excuse to step aside, she said, “You’re my guest and it’s a holiday. Of course I made breakfast. Um, there’s also coffee if you—”
“Let me get that.” Clark stooped to open the door of the oven for her, his handsome face a mask of determination.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. Sliding it onto the rack, she quickly stepped back to allow him to close the door again. Once she’d set the timer, she began again, “So, the coffee should be done if you— What are youdoing?”
A pair of large, work-roughened hands closed over her hips. In the blink of an eye, Clark hoisted her into the air and settled her on the counter. Stepping between her knees, he planted his hands on either side of her and cheerfully announced, “I think we need to have a conversation.”
Nelly shrank backward. “Why?”
“Because the sooner we talk, the sooner I can make you a cup of coffee and we can get on with our holiday.” His grin, blindingly white, dimmed to a sensual curl. “And maybe some other stuff, if you’re amenable.”
Other stuff.Nelly’s mind was so quickly overloaded with all the implications of those two words that it simply whited out.
“I…” She stopped there because her tongue refused to form more words.
Clark’s eyes, the prettiest pale blue she’d ever seen, sparkled with reflections of the twinkling lights strung all around them. There was some serious bruising on his forehead, but he’d taken off the thick, rubbery bandage, so he didn’t look quite so injured as he did before. If anything, the scabbed cut and bruising made him look distressingly roguish.
“See, I was thinking in the shower about our situation,” he began, voice dropping low enough to give even that simple phrase a sensual edge. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding between us, sugar.”
It took some effort to get her tongue to work again, but she managed it. “How so?”
“Firstly, you seem to think I’m a guest.” Clark leaned down close enough that she could get a close up look of his eyes, the boyish curve of his lips, the sprinkle of scruff on his cheeks and chin. Every time she breathed, she took in a lungful of his scent: something crisp and fresh, like the smell of newly cut hay combined with a rich, natural musk.
The man used my shampoo. How in the world does he still smell that damn good?
Clark’s hands settled on the outside of her thighs. The touch was featherlight and closer to her knees than the apex of her thighs, but Nelly was still taken off guard by the ripple of desire that simple, chaste touch caused.
“I am yourmate.”All that boyish lightheartedness bled out of his expression. “I’m not a guest. I’m not a neighbor. I amyours.”
