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His hands settle on my waist, pulling me closer. I slide my arms around his neck, and he deepens the kiss until I'm clutching his shirt.

When he draws back, I'm ready to complain.

Instead, he reaches past me and starts clearing the table.

I blink.

"Are we cleaning up?"

"Nope."

He carries the plates to the counter, moves our mugs, then comes back for me.

Before I can ask another question, his hands grip my waist, and he lifts me onto the table, careful of my bruised knee.

Oh.

Well.

This is a development.

I glance down at the polished wood beneath me.

"Should I be worried about what you're planning to do to your beautiful table?"

His mouth curves.

"Remember telling me I'm good with my hands?"

My cheeks heat.

"With woodworking."

"Yeah, darlin'." He steps closer. "Now I get to show you."

He moves between my thighs, his hands sliding beneath my loose T-shirt.

Well.

Someone certainly intends to honor his warranty.

His fingers trace my skin, warm and rough, sending shivers racing along my spine.

"Fuck, you're soft."

His rough palms slide higher beneath my shirt, and my breath catches when his thumbs skim the undersides of my breasts.

Oh.

My stomach performs a rather impressive somersault.

Vex's eyes lock on mine for half a second before dropping.

His hands follow.

"Fuck me."

That does absolutely nothing to calm my nerves.