Page 46 of Nailed

“You make your own pizza dough?” she said in further amazement.

“Uh, yeah,” I answered. “But it’s less impressive than the sauce. A hack, really. Just Greek yogurt and flour.”

“It’ll probably come out better than store-bought dough anyway,” she said. “Well, guide me. What do you need me to do?”

I explained the process and had her start on the second batch of dough while I sliced up the vegetables and meat for the toppings. We worked side-by-side, our arms occasionally brushing against each other and lingering there for longer than they had to. At one point, Lauren groaned in frustration.

“It’s way too sticky,” she complained, frowning at the mess of gooey dough on her hands. “I think I messed it up.”

“It’s not a problem,” I said, tipping some more flour over her hands and the soggy ball mixture. “It just needs more flour. There’s a bit of a trick to kneading, you see.”

“Can you show me?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, my pulse already picking up as I stood behind her and covered her hands with my own. “Don’t fight the dough. Use the heels of your hands like you’re tucking it in and roll it away from you.”

I went through the motions with her, working the flour into her hands so it would remove some of the stickier parts as we worked the mixture. It was a more intimate experience than I expected, the way our fingers flexed around and between each other. The faded scent of her perfume dragged my attention from the dough to the back of her neck. My hands grew clumsy, and she giggled a bit. That sound shot through me like a whiskey neat.

It didn’t take a long time for the added flour to fix the dough ball, and in all honesty we were probably overkneading it but I didn’t care. Not when Lauren was this close to me that I could feel drunk off her scent and heat. I leaned forward, just a little, just enough to rest my lips on the back of her neck. Just to taste.

She arched into that small touch, a small sigh escaping her as though she’d been waiting for this. My arms tightened around her, my hands staying away despite the overwhelming urge I had to use them. I pressed a gentle kiss to her skin, savoring all the tiny reactions she gave me.

I wanted them all.

“I missed you,” I breathed into her skin. She leaned back against me, a hand going up to touch the side of my face until she realized they were still dirty.

“I missed you too,” she replied, turning her head slightly so I could kiss more of her neck. I followed the elegant line down to her collarbone, eventually resting my mouth on her shoulder. I was dying for more. “I missed this, too.”

That was the final piece I needed. I leaned over and she tilted her head back until I captured her mouth in a soft kiss that had her hum against me, her body singing in my arms. I held both of our dough-sticky hands together and closed my arms around her like a cage, guiding her to the sink. She still had her back pressed against me, and I opened the faucet, using some dish soap to get rid of the leftover yogurt and flour mixture.

When our hands were adequately clean, we finally let them free to roam each other’s bodies. She turned to face me and I slipped mine around her waist, my thumbs rubbing circles into the soft places where her hips joined her thighs.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, her hands playing with my hair the way she seemed to like doing. The kiss deepened, my tongue finding hers with a cautious sweep until she gasped and pressed herself more firmly against me. Wanting, longing, taking.

“Miss Lauren,” I husked her name like a prayer. “I want to make love to you. I want to show you how much I missed you.”

She pressed a kiss to my throat, trailing one hand down my body and I shuddered against her touch. “Then make love to me, Callum. I’m all yours.”

That single line from her set my pulse ratcheting up. I was already hard but hearing her say that…

I knew that Rafe wanted her too. And I knew that it wasn’t one-sided. But I also knew that while both of us were greedy, I was far more patient than he was. I was going to show her that while he could take from her, I was going to give.

When I kissed her again, it was with a renewed sense of ownership of her pleasure, reverence for her body. She was mine, at least for the moment. She was mine and I was going to leave a mark on her so clear that even Rafe would be able to see it.

I backed her up against the fridge, my hands cupping her face as I kissed her deeply. My mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, then her neck. I gently sucked at her skin, breathing in her scent before letting go and soothing my tongue over the reddening bruise.

Lauren moaned and sighed, each little sound from her cranking up my desire until I was bursting with it. But still, I took my time, wanting her on the brink of sanity. My fingers worked beneath the hem of her shirt, lifting it up until she shivered in just her bra. I allowed myself a few moments to take in the beauty of her until I couldn’t bear the distance and returned to the pale silk of her shoulder, my hands now feeling her magnificent breasts through the fabric of her bra.

She moved against my touch, pressing herself into it and I almost cursed out loud. Instead, a low guttural sound tore itself from my throat. I slowly moved lower until I was on my knees, my face directly in line with her torso. I dipped my tongue into her belly button and she whined, rolling her hips forward.

My cock jumped in my jeans. I moaned against her this time, my hands running down her sides and unbuttoning her fly. I kissed each hip bone, leaving more hickeys in a trail until right above where I wanted to be more than anywhere else. She was now standing in just her bra and panties, her jeans kicked away in a hurry. I looked up at her, pressing my mouth against her clothed pussy.

Lauren keened, her hand tightening into a fist in my hair. I groaned, letting my tongue taste her through the fabric.

“Callum,” she gasped. “Please let me touch you.”

“Hmm-hmm,” I said in denial of her request, her natural scent filling my brain with nothing but the undeniable urge to please her, to taste her until she tipped over the edge. “Not this time, Miss Lauren,” I said.

“But I barely got to do anything the last time either,” she complained. When my eyes met hers again, something in me softened at the look of genuine concern on her face. I rose to my feet, my hands still on her hips.