Ashley ran to the bathroom. He couldn’t stop thinking about the moment when he’d taken her hand at the table and she hadn’t flinched at all. He couldn’t stop thinking about the ways in which he’d read her wrong. He definitely couldn’t stop thinking about the urge to kiss her.
“Almost done?” Ashley asked, returning to the kitchen.
He pulled the drain plug from the sink and rinsed that final pot, leaving it to air-dry. “Last one. And it’s a good thing. I was beginning to prune.”
“Let me see,” she said with a comedic air of concern. She took his hand and turned it over in hers. “Oh, you don’t look too bad to me. I think you’ll live.” She peered down at his hand, not letting go. She dragged her finger along the head line. “Is this the heart line?
He smiled, especially when she stepped closer and he could inhale that beguiling summer rain scent of hers. “That’s actually the head line. Mine says that I’m a quick thinker. It also means I draw conclusions quickly. It’s not a good thing.”
“Hmm. I think I’m familiar with that aspect of your personality.” She inched her finger across his palm. “What about this one?”
“Life. Mine says that I need to learn to relax.”
“Either you’re making it up, or this is ridiculously accurate.” She moved her finger to the final line to be read.
“That one’s the heart line.” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, not about to relinquish his hand, unsubtly pulling her closer. Her touch was driving him crazy in the best possible way, bringing every inch of him alive.
“And what does your heart line say?” she asked.
He didn’t want to tell her the truth about his heart line. It said he’d experienced a deep, personal betrayal. It wasn’t that he was over it—he didn’t want to dwell on it with Ashley anymore. They both had their scars. “Why don’t you tell me what you think it says?”
She looked up at him and bit her lower lip, leaving his poor heart to jackhammer in his chest. Her impossibly warm and welcoming eyes scanned his face, back and forth, taking in everything. “I’d guess that it says you have a big heart. A generous one.”
He placed his other hand on her waist, tugging her closer, stepping to the edge of a precipice he’d visited many times. He couldn’t walk away from her if he started something. It wouldn’t just hurt her. It would mark him for life. “It actually says that I’m a bloody idiot if I don’t kiss the incredible woman standing in my kitchen.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “That’s the oldest trick in the book, Chambers.”
He threaded his hand into her hair, anticipating the kiss he was about to plant on her sweet, pink lips. “It’s not a bad one, either.”
Marcus’s kiss was an arrow straight to the heart. Dinner was apparently the best idea ever, judging by the way he was kissing her. She tilted her head to the opposite side, taking another approach. She pressed into him so hard, his head thunked against the upper kitchen cabinet.
“Oh my God, Marcus. Are you okay?”
His eyelids were heavy and sexy as if he’d just woken up. He whipped her around, pushing her butt up against the kitchen island. “Yes. I’m sure I had that coming at some point in our friendship.” His lips were on hers again, his tongue toying with hers while one hand went up the back of her top, unhooking her bra. His other hand was flattened against her back, pressing her into him, erasing any space between them.
She was exploring the landscape of his back beneath his impossibly soft and worn T-shirt. Every muscle was so defined, so articulated, just begging to be read by her fingers. She couldn’t wait to do the same to the front of him.
She leaned back and tugged his T-shirt up and away. “You’re so damn sexy in a pair of jeans. I’m struggling to comprehend it.”
“Remind me to wear them more often.”
She unhooked his button, needing him out of these clothes. Part of her was so eager finally to have him. The rest of her was just hoping to hell that he wasn’t going to make her stop. There’d be no coming back from that. She lowered his zipper.
“Or not,” he said, swallowing hard. “I don’t have to wear the jeans if you don’t want me to.”
He pulled off her top, adding it to the pile of clothes on the kitchen floor. Next went her bra. “Please tell me you have a condom readily available this time,” she said.
“Or what?”
“Or I might have to withhold cake. And I’m definitely withholding sex.”
He took her hand and pulled her down the hall. “Good thing I have a whole box. I’m hoping I get to have both cake and sex.”
She giggled as they walked into his bedroom. It was so different this time, knowing she was an invited guest—she wasn’t sneaking around. He wanted her there. He wanted her, period. She could see it in his eyes.
He gripped her rib cage, caressing the undersides of her breasts with his thumbs, all while practically peering into her soul, peeling away every layer she covered herself in. Making her naked, making her his. He took off her jeans, wiggled her panties past her hips, looking at her. Connecting with his eyes. Making it clear just how serious he was. For once, she was glad he was being serious. Really serious.
He threw back the covers and pulled her down onto the bed, but she had one more bit of business before they could go any further.
Kneeling between his legs, she shimmied his boxers down his hips. He was so ready and magnificent, it was hard to comprehend. Did the man have any shortcomings? She looked at him again. Definitely not. “I haven’t touched you yet, Marcus.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I didn’t have the chance that night.”
“I don’t want to think about it. It’s too painful.”
She drew a finger up the center of his thigh, from his knee to the deep contour along his hip, causing him to buck off the bed. “Do you want me to touch you now?”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “Yes. Please.”
She lowered her head, huffing warm air against his length. “What about now?”
“You’re torturing me, Ash. Please just do it. I’m begging you.”
She didn’t want to make him beg at all. That wasn’t her aim. She just wanted it to be incredible, and she knew it would be so much better if he felt like he’d had to wait for it. The anticipation would make the reward that much sweeter. She gently reached out, taking him in hand and wrapping her fingers around him.
He growled like a bear—a big, happy bear. “That’s it.”
She caressed his length, up, rolling her palm over the tip, down to the base, tightening her grip as she went.
