“You really don’t have to—”
But she cut him off, determined to do this one small thing for him. “I’m going to bake you a delicious…” She perused the shelves and grabbed a few items. “...chocolate chip cake. With my special cream cheese frosting.”
“Sabrina.” He braced a hand on the doorframe and leaned closer. “That’s really sweet, but—”
“I insist.” She turned around, coming face to face with his broad chest, and looked up.Mmmm.He seemed so much taller when he hovered over her, molten gold flowing through his irises. Without thinking, she reached up and touched the scar above his nose. “What happened?”
“My scar?”
She nodded, tracing her index finger over the slightly raised surface.
“Nothing exciting. I got hit in the face with a baseball when I was ten.”
“Ouch.”
He caught her hand and dragged it down to his lips, placing a kiss on the tip of her finger that had been stroking his scar.“It hurt like a mother, but I refused to cry in front of my team. Waited ‘til I got home then bawled like a baby.”
They shared a smile, and she felt that spark of electricity zing between them as he began caressing her fingers. Before things could shift into sexy territory, she cleared her throat. “Do you have any birthday candles?” Her voice came out husky, but she couldn’t help it. He was making her so hot and bothered.
“Yes, from Emma’s birthday.”
“Good.”
His lips twitched. “You’re determined, huh?”
She nodded, and when he released her hand, she immediately missed its warmth.
“Well then, Special Agent Ross, let’s get baking.”
He reached over her head and grabbed the bag of sugar from a high shelf. His scent, clean and soapy, enveloped her, making her slightly dizzy. Slipping under his arm, she washed her hands at the sink and then got down to business.
The necessary ingredients gathered and the oven pre-heating, Sabrina pulled up a recipe on her phone while Jayson brought out mixing bowls and a measuring cup. When he reached for the flour, intent on helping, she shooed his hands away.
“I’ve got this,” she told him.
Not one to remain idle, he started to insist, forcing her to take drastic measures. Dipping her fingers into the flour, she flicked it at him. The powder landed on his nose and cheeks in a puff of white, and he blinked in surprise.
“You did not just—”
She did it again, and when his mouth dropped open, she burst out laughing. A playful energy came over her, and it must’ve been contagious, because he scooped a handful of flour from the bag and let it fly. She squealed, spinning around and getting the majority of it in the back of her head.
Scurrying forward, she darted around the island, doing her best to stay out of his reach, but the man was fast. And he had the entire bag of flour in his hand. Suddenly, it was a full-on flour war, and it didn’t take her long to realize she was losing.
After chasing her around the island a couple of times, he dropped the bag and closed in fast, a predatory look in his eyes. Before she could escape, his arm snaked around her waist, hauling her backward, and Sabrina let out a shriek.
“Vixen,” he rasped, caging her against his firm body. His low, deep voice in her ear turned her insides to mush, and instead of trying to get away, she melted in his arms.
Turning her around, he kept one hand on her hip while his other trailed up and cupped her face. A soft sigh escaped from between her lips as she waited with bated breath for his kiss.
His mouth descended, and she pushed up onto her toes, greedy for everything he could give her. They kissed each other hungrily. Tasting, exploring, getting to know each hidden crevice and corner. He didn’t hold back, eagerly consuming her until her knees threatened to buckle.
Without warning, he scooped her up, setting her ass on the granite countertop, and kept kissing the holy hell out of her. Pushing her back onto the counter, his mouth left hers and trailed lower. His warm tongue licked its way down her throat and a large palm slid over her right breast, softly kneading the flesh.
Lying on the kitchen island, dusted in flour, Sabrina had never felt more like a woman desired. When his fingers slid past the waistband of her pajama bottoms and dipped into her panties, her world caught fire. His big, warm hand settled over her hot mound and she arched up. Desperate for more, a moan tore from her throat as she offered herself to him.
He shoved her sweatshirt up with his other hand, kissing her stomach. “Need to taste you,” he rasped out between kisses.
“Yes…please…” she urged.
