“Fine.”
Keeping his arms around me, he circled my body until we were chest to chest. “Lift me up on the counter.”
“There are chairs across the room,” I said. “Unless you stole those too.”
“I won’t be able to see from way over there.”
It was hardlyway over there,but the way he clung to me was making me weak, and it was sort of adorable that he wanted to watch me cook. Plus, the folder with all the secrets I’d yet to spill was right there on the island.
Setting aside my mug, I lifted him easily, plopping his ass on the counter. “This is unsanitary.”
In response, he wrapped his legs around my waist and pulled me in. “I thought you liked good-morning kisses.”
Planting my palms on the counter, I leaned into his upturned face and found that feeling I usually only got when that first sip of morning coffee hit my soul.
Moaning, I wrapped my arms around him, clutching him close as the kiss deepened. Aromatic coffee flavored my tongue and soon his as they passionately twisted together. His legs quivered lightly at my waist, and his ankles locked behind my back. I leaned in, arching him over my arms. His fingers dug into the muscles of my back as the open-mouthed kiss went on. I was tempted to just fuck him right there on the counter, forget breakfast. Forget everything.
But that would be dangerous.
I drew back slowly, hungry kisses turning to nibbles, then soft pecks, and finally, I lifted my head.
Hazard’s cheeks were fuchsia, eyes a bit dazed and lips plump.
“Baby doll,” I murmured for no reason other than I wanted to.
He smiled.
Groaning, I forced myself back, taking my coffee along to gather the ingredients to make French toast.
The bread was soaking up the egg mixture when he spoke. “So have you ever refused a job?”
“One,” I said, not turning around. I couldn’t let the bread get too soggy. Then I’d have to start over, which would be a complete waste of ingredients.
“Really?” Hazard replied in a tone that implied he smelled gossip.
I transferred the bread to the griddle, and the scent of vanilla filled the room as it began to cook.
“When was that? What happened? Why did you say no?” he pressed.
I flipped the toast over, admiring the golden-brown color, and reached for my mug. After a fortifying sip, I turned to look at my boyfriend—something I never planned to have but would now burn the world down to keep. “About that,” I began, knowing I couldn’t put it off another minute.
The distinct sound of the disengaging locks on the front door had me moving before I could even think. Instinct and years of training kicked in, and I rushed to Haz, pulled him off the counter, and used my body to shield his as I reached into a nearby cabinet for a gun I kept there.
I flipped the safety and spun. “When I say run, go shut yourself in the murder locker. And don’t come out until I come for you.”
“I—”
“Hazard.”
“Okay.”
The door swung open, and I leveled the gun with a steady arm while reaching around me to make sure Haz was safe.
Ghost strolled in without a care in the world as if he weren’t about to get a bullet in the brain. Feeling the tension, he stiffened and whipped around. “Jesus, Vaughn. Bullets are not breakfast.”
Shit!The French toast!
I rushed to the griddle to transfer it to a plate, relieved to see it was only slightly overdone on one side.
