Ben…
“Cinderella had a sparkling coach. And white horses,” Shay grumbled after my truck hit a bump.
“She had a pumpkin. And mice.”
“After midnight,” she argued.
“It’s twelve-oh-seven.” I smiled at her complaint-debate.
“And the prince wasn’t snippy.”
“I’m the prince?”
“None other.” She snuggled closer against my side.
We’d driven attached at the hip like that to my condo, all thirteen minutes. She’d murmured random things while half-asleep.
“Ahhh...but the prince wasn’t with her after midnight.”
“Lucky me,” she grumped.
But her actions contradicted her words, because she’d gotten closer than ever to me. As if we’d fallen asleep under that tree where she’d hunted rare birds, and when we’d awoken some kind of curse had been lifted.
“No.” I parked outside my building. Then I touched a finger under her chin, lifted gently until her eyes blinked open, and stared down at her. I softened my voice. “Lucky me.”
She let me open the stubborn truck door for her but insisted on carrying her own bags. Both hung from her right shoulder; she’d kept her other hand free and silently shoved it into mine.
Got it. She was good with the touching, but still demanded her independence.
However, as soon as I pushed open my heavy front door, I swept her off her feet.
She squealed and clutched the straps of her bags with both hands, but didn’t drop either one. “We’re not married.”
“We’re committed for one week. Close enough.” More than I ever expected. But exactly where we needed to be.
Humor glittered in her eyes as she stared up at me. Then she glanced around my place. “Where’s the bed?”
“Nice. Right down to business.” I kicked the door shut behind us.
She thumped a hand on my shoulder. “To tuck my bags under.”
“No need to hide your stuff here. Drop ’em anywhere.”
She shifted her arm and dropped them right there with a thud onto the floor of the entry.
“Living room. Kitchen.” I nodded at each as I carried her through. The rooms were dark. Couldn’t see much.
But then, she wasn’t paying attention to the scenery.
Neither was I.
Soft lips had begun trailing kisses up my neck. Hard nails scraped up into my scalp.
One of her Converse thumped onto the hallway floor. The second fell with a clunk as we entered the darkness of my bedroom. I lowered her to the ground in the middle of the floor. “Bed.” I nodded toward it.
Her lips trailed from my ear, along my jawline, then hovered over my mouth.
I closed the inch of distance and kissed her, slow and soft, one second...two.
Until her hands pressed against my chest.
Indirect moonlight through my huge windows cast a slight glow in the room, enough for me to see the playfulness in her eyes. I kept my hands at my side and sucked in deep breaths as I wondered what she’d do.
She didn’t remove her hands from my chest when she glanced at the bed. Instead, she exerted pressure and backed me toward it. A mixture of excitement and fear sparkled in her eyes.
The fear part halted my eager thoughts.
I rubbed a thumb over her cheek, slid my fingers into her hair. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“We could go at your pace.”
“Okay.”
I had no idea what that entailed. Had never not taken the reins before.
Didn’t have long to figure it out, though. She led the way, determination in her gaze.
A sudden push against my chest knocked me back a step. My calves hit the foot of the bed.
She stepped into the space and gave another light shove.
I fell backward and hit the mattress. “O-kay.”
Dark hair fell around her face as she stared at me with the beginnings of a smile.
And I felt like the luckiest guy on earth.
I watched in reverent silence as she shoved down her jeans to reveal bare hips, toned thighs.
She still wore her black T-shirt when she crawled onto the bed, straddled my legs, and climbed on top of me.
Like a patient man, I settled my hands just above her knees. “I’m still dressed.”
“I know.”
“You’re half-dressed.”
“There’s my observant guy.”
“All I heard was my guy.”
“You’re talkative.”
“I could shut up.”
She gave a slight headshake. “No, I like it. So, how does this go?”
“Sex?
“Our sex.”
Not remotely close to any porn she’d ever seen. And nothing like any sex I’d ever had. Special, because it was us.
“If you’re taking the lead, you’d straddle me. Oh, wait. You already are.”
She lowered her upper body onto my chest, settled her hands on my shoulders. Her lips hovered a mere inch from mine. “And then?”
I swallowed hard, took a deep breath. “Press your hips down.”
“Like” —she curved her hips, angled her pelvis— “this?”
Fuck. “Yeah, like that. How’s it feel?”
“Good...I think.” Her brow wrinkled.
“There’s no ‘I think.’ You need to know. Find out.”
“How?” The softest press of her lips dragged over my mouth.
Tease.
I surged forward, captured her lips, and kissed her so thoroughly, we both gasped for air when we came up for it. “Press harder.”
“Show me.” She pushed herself back until she sat upright.
“Bossy.” I slid my hands up the silken skin of her outer thighs until I gripped her hips, thumbs over hipbones, fingers splayed over her sexy bare ass.
When she curved her hips and angled again, I pulled down and thrust upward.
She gasped.
“Yes?” I eased my tight grip.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered, duplicating the move without my assistance.
Her pace increased, matched her gasping breath. “I can’t see you.”
“Feeling’s more important anyway.”
“I like the way you feel.” Her hands slid under my T-shirt. “Hard. Hot.”
And I still have my jeans on. “You have no idea.”
A primal urge taunted me to flip her over, strip us both naked, then plunge deep inside her to prove just how hard and hot—and aching for her in every way—she’d gotten me.
But Shay had become the rare bird I’d discovered without realizing I’d been hunting her. Somehow, she’d landed on me, a whole different species from her. And I remained still. I didn’t want to startle her, even if holding back meant denying myself.
Her lips parted and a low moan escaped as her pace slowed. “How should I move?”
“Any way that makes you feel good.”
“What about you?”
“Trust me, Shay.” I let out a rough breath. “I’m right there with you.”
“You are?”
“Fuck yeah, I am.”
“How do you know where I am?”
“Do you ache between your legs?”
She groaned. “Yes.”
“Me too.”
Her hip-grinding pace kicked up a notch again. “And you’re hard, getting harder.”
“And I bet you’re dripping wet.” I wanted to touch, to drive her wild. But I wanted her to own the moment as hers more.
“I feel” —she gasped— “wet.”
“I hear your excitement in your breath, in the gasps that come quicker.”
Her hands slid over my chest, slight weight pressed down. “And your heart, how it races.”
“Your body is trembling.”
“Wound up.” She hissed. “So tight.”
Fuck. My cock ached to find out just how tight.
“Chase it, then fall into it, trust it...” I watched as her eyes pinched shut, her breaths reduced to shallow panting. “Just let go,” I urged.
And she did. On a clipped cry, her entire body shuddered as she collapsed over me.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight through every shiver and quake.
After a dozen or so seconds, she stirred, and rested her chin on my chest. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I pulled in a deep breath as my pulse hammered a painful ache behind the closed fly of my jeans.
“Shouldn’t we...take care of you too?”
“Do you want to?”
She pushed further up from my chest and gazed into my eyes. “Yes.”
My beautiful rare bird wanted to fly again. With me. “Then, fuck yes, we should.”
Her soft laughter sounded out as she propped higher on her knees. I reached down between them and ripped the buttons of my fly open, freeing all that hot hardness she’d been praising seconds ago.
“What about our clothes?” I wanted her, needed her like air in my lungs, but I could slow down, make her first time however she’d imagined it to be.
I slid a hand up her inner thigh, until my fingers found her slick center.
She sucked in a deep breath.
Spurred on by her reaction, I rubbed...circled...teased low moans and tiny gasps from her.
“What clothes?”
“Right.” So fucking right.
I lowered my hand, and she dropped her hips, following my lead, until her dripping wet coated the length of my getting harder. When I gripped her hips and jerked her forward, she tumbled onto my chest again.
Lips met lips in a fierce kiss. Hips arched in perfect sync. My tip caught.
One forceful thrust and we became one. With her soft whimper, I buried my hands in her hair and deepened our kiss on a low growl.
Slowly we began to move. She angled her hips, chasing her pleasure. I drove upward, plunging deep.
We never broke our kiss. And I didn’t hold back. Together we rode a rising wave until we both exploded, her first, me right after.
Our kisses began to soften as we struggled to catch our breath.
Her body relaxed, melting onto mine.
With a heavy exhale, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight.
After long minutes, we shared a last tender kiss, then her head settled onto my shoulder. Warm lips kissed my neck. A contented sigh drifted up to my ear.
All felt right in my world. Our world, now. She hadn’t hesitated, not even a little.
She’d trusted me. One hundred percent.
Yet as we drifted off, somewhere in the back of my mind, I sensed I’d forgotten something.
A grinding noise scoured the inside of my skull.
I rolled over with a groan.
The abrasive sound continued.
I squinted open my eyes. And blinding light assaulted me. I pinched them shut.
What the fuck?
The brief disorientation faded as brain cells kicked in. Shay.
My hands slid to the space beside me. All I found was a small indentation where she’d lain. The sheets had gone cold.
A tinny clank sounded, like a metal spoon reverberating off countertop. A hollow bang followed: a cabinet door slammed shut?
I grinned at the unusual ruckus. About time someone banged around in that showroom kitchen.
Jeans still on and unbuttoned from last night, I pushed out of bed. On the way out of the room, I noticed her bags had been relocated to the floor just outside the bathroom, clothing items draped over the open duffel. I scrubbed a hand over my eyes as I trudged down the hall. “You trying to wake up the neighborhood?”
“Nope. Just you.” Her dark hair had been scraped up into a ponytail. Green eyes shone brilliant in the bright sunlight that streamed through the window from a high angle. She disengaged the bowl of my food processor and dumped its contents, what appeared to be chopped nuts, into a small glass bowl. “It’s almost lunchtime.”
“Lunchtime.” It didn’t compute. I never slept that late. And my kitchen air had never smelled so...sweet.
I surveyed a counter that looked like it’d just survived a bomb blast. Flour dusted over the kitchen island’s stone surface. Defrosted blueberries filled one glass bowl, toasted coconut another. A large mixing bowl contained dry ingredients. I sat down at a barstool and watched as she added two eggs. Then she measured and poured olive oil and coconut oil, neither of which I had any clue had been hiding in my cabinets.
“And you’re making...” Looks like breakfast to me.
“Pancakes.”
“Sure. Because that’s what we eat at lunchtime. And where did you learn how to cook?”
She pointed a green silicone mixing spoon at me. “Pancakes are anytime food. And these are no ordinary pancakes.” She shrugged. “No big. I’ve spent time in houses that have expensive kitchens and Food Network.”
I cocked my head and examined the ingredients, thoroughly intrigued. “What makes them so extraordinary?” Besides the beautiful woman making them.
“Blueberries are normal. But there’s no flour in these. Not the regular kind. Coconut flour, almond flour.”
“Coconut oil...” I grabbed the dark glass jar which held the white solidified substance. “Kiki must’ve gone all out when she stocked my pantry.”
“Kiki did?” A frown tugged at her lips. She blinked. Then her eyes narrowed.
In jealousy?
“Did you two ever...” She made a corkscrew action with the spoon, and a glob of pancake mix dropped onto the counter.
Appalled, I scowled and coughed out a laugh. “Hell no. Kiki’s like my sister. She designed the condo, picked it out actually. She furnished it from the chairs and rugs to the dishes and kitchen appliances.”
“And coconut oil.” She ladled a spoonful of batter onto a sizzling skillet.
“Apparently.” I put the jar down.
Silence followed while she attended to our pancakes.
And I’d never been happier sitting at a barstool in my own kitchen.
She seemed comfortable in front of the stove, happy even. And she looked breathtaking standing barefoot in my gourmet kitchen in nothing but faded blue jeans and a gray T-shirt. Then I noticed the ends of her hair dangling from that ponytail were slightly damp.
“You showered.” Even I heard my flattened tone of disappointment.
“While you slept like the dead.” She flipped four pancakes, one by one.
“I was hoping to shower together.” A long, hot, dirty, soapy shower. Not that there was any immediate pressure, with her being squeaky clean.
“You were?” A gleam flashed in her eyes. “Don’t people shower every day?”
“Those with good personal hygiene do.” Wasn’t sure where she was heading with her point. But the mischief in her tone piqued my curiosity.
“Then why would we want to take any ol’ shower?”
Isn’t it obvious? But she was unaware of just how sexy she was. “It wouldn’t be ‘any ol’ shower.’ Not with you.”
Diverting her attention back to the skillet, she shoved a spatula under each pancake then flipped them one by one into a neat stack onto a platter, all while she tugged her left lower lip in with her teeth. “We shouldn’t shower on your day. I’m thinking we should shower on my day.”
Because you want to cross some legal line when we do.
A heavy ache kicked up behind the fly of my jeans. Sexy didn’t begin to cover the woman standing in my kitchen. Barely innocent, she plastered adventure all over her view of life.
And I wanted to be a part of it.
“You pick the day.” Whenever she was ready, wherever she wanted, however she imagined us naked, wet, and all over each other? Count me in.
“And these are extraordinary pancakes,” she continued, as if we hadn’t detoured into dirty lawbreaking showers, “not only because of the ingredients, but because of the toppings: I warmed pecans then sautéed them in melted ghee before salting ’em.”
She shot me a deadpan look. “And because I made them.”
End of. Simple as that.
Yet more complicated than I’d ever imagined. Because my heart ached in my chest. Again.
It suddenly hit me just how hard I’d fallen. No one had ever made me feel what the beautiful wild creature in my kitchen had. And I wanted Shay, no matter the danger she willingly braved.
Even with the inherent risks to me.
She hadn’t been caught over the last so many years.
What’s the harm in chancing a few days?
“You are extraordinary.”
Her expression went blank, stunned. Which made me briefly angry, then determined. If no one had ever made her feel special, wanted...loved...I vowed to be the one to change that.
I’m going to show you just how special you are.
And I wanted to do so much more than that. Gone were the rotating borrowed houses—once she agreed to the change, of course. She needed a solid place to call home, somewhere to feel safe, someone to protect her.
She’d already trusted me enough to take care of her last night. And she’d committed to a week. I had more than enough time to convince her to take another risk, commit to something more.
Oh, shit. My heart sank. “Protection!”
She ladled a spoonful of blueberries over her pecan-covered pancake before glancing back up at me. “I can take care of myself.”
“No.” I shook my head, stood from the barstool. “I forgot to use a condom.” Fuck. Shit. Damn. I knew my sex-fogged brain had missed something. A major something.
She came around the kitchen island, wrapped me in her arms, then kissed me softly. “No. You forgot to use a condom. I wanted to feel all of you.”
I searched her eyes, found only sincere emotion there. “Oh.”
And you continue to blow me away.
Her lips twitched into a slight smile. “Was it worth it?”
“Fuck yeah, it was. Best sex of my life.” And more. The best everything kept happening with her. The week ahead? I couldn’t wait.
And yet, something still rattled at the back of my mind. Like I’d forgotten something else.
But then she gave me a sensual kiss again. And every worry fell right out of my head.