Jesus. She thought I wasn't interested? When every moment I'm fighting not to pin her against the nearest surface and show her exactly how much I want her?
"Harper." I rest my forehead against hers, trying to steady my breathing. "I've been keeping my distance because if I don't, I might do something we're not ready for."
"Oh." Her breath hitches. "Oh."
"Yeah."
"That's... good to know." She's playing with the buttons of my shirt, a nervous habit that's going to kill me. "For research purposes."
I can't help laughing. Even now, she's trying to lighten the moment, ease the tension. "Research?"
"Mhm. Very important plot points. Though my editor might suggest this scene needs more..."
I kiss her again, softer this time. When I pull back, she looks dazed in a way that makes me want to see how else I can make her lose her train of thought.
"The cookies," she manages.
"Let them burn."
"But—"
"Harper." I trace her bottom lip with my thumb. "Stop talking about cookies."
Her smile is shy but warm. "Make me."
She bites her lip. That same innocent little habit that drives me out of my mind. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend to be strong, to pretend I don’t want to devour her right here in the middle of my damn kitchen.
But when she whispers, “Make me,” with that breathless smile, I break.
I don’t answer. I just kiss her again. Slow, deep, and deliberate. Her hands fist in my shirt, and I feel her soften against me, trusting me completely. That trust nearly undoes me.
She gasps as I lift her onto the kitchen counter, pushing aside the forgotten tray of cookies. My hands slide up her thighs, under the oversized flannel, finding smooth skin and warmth that makes my pulse pound.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” I murmur against her mouth. “Anytime. I mean it.”
Her only answer is to kiss me harder.
I drag my mouth down her neck, breathing her in. “You smell like sugar and heaven.”
Her laugh turns into a gasp as I kiss along her collarbone. “That’s not even a real thing.”
“It is now.”
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her jeans. She lifts her hips, silently giving me permission. My heart hammers like I’m twenty again, like I don’t know what I’m doing, because this isn’t just sex. This is her first time. This isHarper. And I’m not going to rush a damn thing.
I tug her jeans and panties down, slow and reverent, and when I step back to look at her—legs parted, shirt slipping off one bare shoulder, cheeks flushed—I swear I forget how to breathe.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I whisper.
She ducks her head like she doesn’t believe me, but I tip her chin up. “No. Look at me. Let me see you.”
Her eyes shine as they meet mine, and I drop to my knees.
“Dean—” Her voice is high and uncertain.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “Just want to make you feel good.”
Her breath catches as I settle between her legs, my hands anchoring her hips in place. I go slow, just teasing at first—gentle flicks of my tongue, tasting her sweetness, learning every reaction she gives me.
