I hide my grin behind my coffee cup.
“I made pancakes.”
“Oh.” That’s adorable. Nobody has ever made me pancakes before. Nobody’s ever made me breakfast. I take a big sip of coffee and set it down, trying to pretend that doesn’t make me ridiculously happy. “Sounds good.”
“Mm,” he says, stepping closer. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving.” I run my tongue out over my bottom lip.
Luke’s eyes linger on my mouth, the espresso-colored irises turning an inky black. “Good.” He expels a heavy breath. I think he’s fighting the urge to kiss me, and it makes me hot all over.
“Luke,” I say, closing the gap between us, bringing my mouth an inch from his.
“Yeah?” he chokes out.
“I want some pancakes.”
His brow dips and I giggle.
“I’m kidding. Kiss me.”
He narrows his eyes, a mischievous smile nudging his lips as he shakes his head. “Nope. Not after that.”
I ponder him for a second, then decide to call his bluff. “Okay.” I hike up a shoulder and turn for the counter. “I’ll just—”
“Fine.” He takes my arm and hauls me against his chest. “You win.” His mouth covers mine and I sink against him. “As if I could ever say no,” he murmurs, kissing me again. His kiss starts gently, with slow strokes of his tongue, dipping into my mouth, teasing me. Heat sparks in my abdomen, spreading out along my limbs and settling heavily between my thighs.
It only takes a minute for our sweet kisses to escalate. The soft flick of his tongue against mine becomes rough and demanding, his mouth urging mine open further so he can take more. He presses his body into me against the kitchen island. I can feel him hardening for me, and I groan right into his mouth, lowering my hands to stroke the bulge in his pants. I can’t help myself. I want to feel exactly what I’m doing to him, because he’s having the same effect on me. He’s been kissing me less than five minutes and I’m already giddy.
He removes his glasses and sets them aside, then he drops his hands to the kitchen island, caging me between his arms. He contemplates me with dark eyes as I stroke my hand over his straining sweatpants. I love the way it pulls a rough sound from his throat, makes his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Seeing how good it makes him feel sends waves of wet, molten heat right through my center.
“God, you drive me wild,” he rasps, grinding himself against my palm. His cheeks are flushed, and I lean into the curve of his shoulder, pushing his shirt aside to press my lips to his skin. Then I raise my mouth to his ear, grazing my teeth over the curve of his earlobe, and he forces a groan out through his teeth. “Come with me,” he says gruffly, turning for the bedroom. But I tug him back by the arm and push him up against the kitchen island.
“No.” I fall to my knees in front of him. “We’re doing this right here.”
His eyebrows inch up, but I don’t hesitate. Iamhungry, but it’s not pancakes I want. I replay his words—you drive me wild—and they make me feel wild myself. No man has ever said that to me before. Not even close. And the more he shows how much he wants me, the less I stop to think about what I’m doing.
I push his sweatpants down his hips and his erection springs free. While I’ve never found the male anatomy especially nice to look at, I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen. I think I get what he means about going down on someone not for them, but for you. Because right now, I want nothing more than to take him into my mouth.
I close my fist around his thick length, wetting my lips. When I flick my gaze up to his, he’s watching me with hooded eyes. I lick the moist tip of him, deliberately taking my time as I relish his musky, salty taste. A hard breath shudders out of him as I do it again, swirling my tongue.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You look so good down there, baby.”
Hearing him call me that again makes my heart thunder in my chest. I’m on my knees in front of him and he’s calling me baby and I never want to leave his apartment again.
No. I can’t think that thought. I know I can’t.
Instead I wrap my lips around him, drawing him into my mouth. He throws his head back on a long moan and his knees buckle. He has to grip the counter behind him.
Good. I want to make him lose his mind.
I focus on my task, paying attention to the way he responds. How he loves it when I use my hands too, when I suck harder, when I drag my tongue up the underside and over the tip.
His hand moves from the counter to grab my hair and pull it to one side, out of the way. Then he holds it like that as his hips thrust forward. I look up, locking my gaze with his as I let him fuck my mouth, and he grits out a string of incoherent words. I can’t believeI’mdoing this to him, I’m making this gorgeous man come undone. I feel like a goddess, drunk on the power I have over him. It makes me take him deeper, until he abruptly stills.
“Shit—stop,” he says, and I pull my mouth off him with a pop. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes pressed shut like he’s in pain.
“Everything okay?”
