“You have a little—” She makes a sweeping motion with her hand over her cheek.
“I have a little what, trouble?” I make a show out of wiping the wrong cheek, and some of the storm clouds surrounding me lift at her smile.
“No, here,” she mutters, reaching out to help. I take advantage, and instead of letting her help me, I grasp her hips and lift her onto the counter before kissing her senseless. Her legs wrap around my waist, and she groans into my mouth, my tongue taking full advantage of the easy access. My hand tangles in her hair, and I tug it the way I know she loves. My lips leave hers, and I start kissing her throat and tugging her T-shirt out of her jeans so I can get my hands on her hot skin.
“We are not doing this here,” she rumbles.
“You smell like fucking peaches,” I answer. Yes. Here. Now. My tongue glides across her collarbone.
“Hunter,” she breathes.
But she moves against me, restless, needy, her body seeking the release it knows only I can give. My fingers flick open the top button of her jeans, and I glide the zipper down before slipping my finger into her panties. Fuck. She’s wet already. Touching Eleanor reminds me there is good in the world.
My fingers flick over her hidden hoop, and she shudders against me as a flood of wet heat soaks my hand. I already know she’s tight from having my tongue shoved inside her as she came apart, but as I slide one thick finger inside her walls, I realize how much of a squeeze it’s going to be.
“Please,” she breathes against my neck as I start to move in slow shallow thrusts. I fucking love the way she melts for me. “Not here.”
I freeze. “You want me to stop?”
“No, just relocate.”
I snort as I move my finger faster, causing her to groan and tighten around me, then I’m coughing and blinking through a white cloud, my entire body stilling despite me being inside her.
“Did you flour me?” I ask.
“Oops?”
I huff as I tear my hand free from her panties. “Oops?” I parrot, grabbing her arm and hauling her over my shoulder before slapping her ass, leaving a bright white handprint on the dark denim.
“What are you doing?” she asks between laughter.
“Taking you home.” I march out of the bakery and stride down the busy sidewalk, greeting wide-eyed folks as I go.
“Oh my god,” she grumbles, burying her face between my shoulder blades. “Can we bypass the caveman routine? It’s not really my scene.”
“Nope. You lost the right to walk home with dignity when you dumped flour over me. All you had to do was lie back and take my fingers.”
“Afternoon, Hunter,” Liam says with a nod. He’s the fourth person to engage us, and every time Eleanor grumbles about me being a Neanderthal, which makes them chuckle and me grin. We make it into my building as Mark steps out of his apartment. He grins at my precious load.
“Good, you’re home. You have a delivery.” The way he says it, with a mischievous glint in his eye, makes me instantly suspicious. He’s got a reputation for practical jokes, and I have my hands full with Eleanor, literally. Delays aren’t appreciated.
Mark dives back into his apartment and reappears with two brown boxes. There aren’t any markings or a return address; nothing to give any indication about where they came from.
“I didn’t order anything,” I mutter as I stride up the stairs toward him.
“One is addressed to her,” Mark says, grinning even wider.
“Oh my god,” Eleanor gasps, stiffening against my shoulder. The action isn’t filled with fear like I’d assume. My instantthought was that Christopher is toying with us, but she’s more logical than me. What am I missing here?
“What did you order, trouble?” I hum. Both parcels appear to be identical, but I still don’t know where they’re from. More importantly, what did she order for me?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Eleanor
Christmas came early, and I almost didn’t.
Worst. Timing. Ever. It’s like the universe is conspiring against me. Could these parcels have turned up any other time but the minute we are both out? I sigh, propping myself up on Hunter’s back as he continues up the stairs. Yes, statistically they should have, and then I could have hidden my impulsive purchases and pretended they never even happened. Now I have zero chance of Hunter not opening his treat box, and probably mine.
