I’m reminded of so many mornings we’ve shared in this very kitchen, this same food I’ve prepared, with so many jokes, stories, moments between us that have made me fall in love with him more each day. It all slams into me at once, where we’ve been, where we’ve ended up, and chills break out along my entire frame, which he definitely takes note of.
“What’s for breakfast, Gem?” That isnotthe same voice he usually asks me that question in. Nope, that deep, sultry tone is one I’ve only heard these past few weeks, and my body recognizes its master at once. Both knees grow weak and I prop myself up by extending my arms on the counter of the island behind me to hopefully look close to normal here.Get it together, Gem. Don’t get distracted by that raw male yumminess. Be cool.
“Cr-crepes.” Hopefully clearing my throat distracts from that stammer. He takes another calculated step toward me, eyebrows raised as I try again. “Crepes with berries and Chantilly cream. Coddled eggs with rosemary potato spears and baguette rounds.”
Thank God I had an answer prepped for him. That could’ve been embarrassing if he thought he could throw me off by using sex as a weapon against me. Hah. Nice try, Stone.
“Mmm,” he teases.
Dammit. He’s onto me.
Our bodies are barely separated at this point, his thighs just inches away from my own. He pokes his head around my shoulder to take in the display of our usual breakfast behind me and rights himself again, directly in front of me, with a heart-stopping smirk on his face. That face that—combined with his ever-present charm—has landed him countless roles and made him damn near a household name. When he uses it against me, I don’t stand a chance.
I’m hoping he uses other parts against me, too.
My throat works again, an audible gulp sounding as I realize he’s penned me in against the counter. Our bodies are now flush, his pressed firmly against mine. Those toned, athletic thighs against my thinner ones. His hardness is sandwiched between his solid abs and my softer stomach, leaving zero question in my mind as to whether he’s able to wait for later before we jump back into our new favorite pastime. Lucky for me, he isn’t.
A rush of anticipation floods my lower belly, down into my core, where I feel my heartbeat settle. The increased blood flow in the area is highlighting how sore I still am afteryesterday’sactivities, but I’m willing to test this out and see how far I can push my limits. After all, how am I supposed to grow without challenging myself?
Aaron’s face comes ever closer to mine until he drops it forward, pressing his lips to the sensitive column of my throat. My head drops back, and I savor the feeling of his mouth on the delicate skin of my neck.
I swear he’s got me hot-wired, all it takes is those lips onthatspot on my neck and the floodgates have opened down below.
My hips twitch anxiously, my ass working against the counter behind me, trying to keep from giving in and jumping his bones right here and now, because the anticipation is half the fun, I’ve learned. Aaron takes advantage of the extra inch of space I’ve created and presses himself farther into my lower stomach, anda groan escapes me at the knowledge that soon I’ll be able to feel him in that same spot, but from the inside.
He flexes his hips, grinding himself against the perfect spot through my soft lounge pants, and that’s when my legs start to tremble.
“Can I tell you something?” he whispers against my ear.
“Anything,” I manage to get out.
“This looks delicious.” It takes me a second to realize we were just talking about the food behind me, and I nod once.
“Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper, but how does anyone expect me to be functional with six feet, and more importantly, what has to be eight inches of this man pressed into me like this? I’m impressed I remembered to use basic manners at all, thank you very much.
One of his hands comes up behind my head and tilts it back up so that we’re looking in each others’ eyes again. Those dilated pupils haveallof my attention.
“But there’s something else I’d rather devour right now.”
Oh.
He leans forward, bending me backward until my spine is nearly pressed flat to the island. He stretches out so that he can use his arms to swipe all of the plates and glasses off of the countertop in one swift move. Both of our heads move to track the motion, watching in slow motion as the ceramic dishware shatters, food flying halfway across the tiled floor as it makes impact with the ground.
My jaw flies open in disbelief. That was the most impractical—and possibly the hottest—thing I’ve ever seen.
It takes about two seconds before the consequences of his actions catch up to him. Aaron stands up straighter so I can too (my back appreciates it), before speaking again.
“Fuck.” He grips his head in his hands, distress seeping out of him. “We’re gonna have to clean that up. Fuck!” His panickedeyes rapidly take in the scene of chaos. “Why does nobody ever show that part in the movies?”
And the bubble of solemnity bursts. We both break out in laughter, nearing full-on hysterics at the mess he just made in what he surely thought would be a moment of passion. The toast looks fairly unharmed, but the scrambled eggs are coating the bright white kitchen cabinets along the lower half of one whole wall, dripping down until they splat on the floor comically, and I’m pretty sure there’s oatmeal on every surface from the large apron sink, all the way up to the pendant lights hanging from the cathedral ceiling.
Doubled over, I laugh until my stomach hurts and my sides start to cramp.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I wheeze out after a minute of giggles.
“It looks so cool on-screen!” He throws his hands up in defense, like he’s stumped as to why that didn’t look like something out of commercial for a cleaning product or something.
When our eyes connect again though, the mirth vanishes, sucked out of the room in an instant, replaced by a fierce intensity I feel insanely lucky to be a part of. And just like that, all of my focus is on him again, the rest of our surroundings forgotten.
