“Jackass,” she mumbles. “Though, I don’t meet many guys who read romance.”
I shrug as I lean against the wall behind her desk, drinking her in. She looks real good in my shirt. It’s tight over her breasts but hits her at mid-thigh, hiding all her yummy bits from view. The same yummy bits I want back on my tongue. “I love romance, I love the intimacy, and I enjoy the words rather than watching a guy plow through a female.”
Her lips quirk, and I know I could be honest. That my love life has been a train wreck of shit and I haven’t felt true intimacy in my life.
Until what we did in the middle of her shop.
I ignore that thought, and it’s easy when she licks her lips as she leans on the desk. She is braced on her hands, her eyes meeting mine. I hate that there is space between us. I step toward her while she asks, “Have you always been a reader?”
I nod as I reach for her, pulling her into my arms, her back to my chest and her ass warm against my hips. She fits against me perfectly, and when I cuddle her neck, I kiss her flesh before I say, “I’ve been reading since I was a kid. My mom taught me early, and there wasn’t a night she didn’t read to me.”
She leans her head into mine as a breathy sigh leaves her pretty lips. “That’s sweet.”
“Yeah, she read to all of us. And when each one of us moved out, I turned the room into a library.”
She gasps. “Oh my God, you’re a dream.”
I chuckle against her neck. “She loved it.”
“As would any bookworm.”
“True. You said you just got into reading?”
She leans her head back into my shoulder, and I meet her gaze. “I did. My sister Austen is a reader, and she introduced me to this world. I’m obsessed and wanted to have a place for people to get lost the way I do.”
I kiss her jaw. “You’ve built one hell of a space. I love coming in here.”
“Coming in here? Or coming in me?”
I grip her tighter. I know what she’s doing, and it’s fine. I’ll play her game of distraction, but I will find out why her back is like that. Who did that to her, and if I can do the same to them. The thought of tying the asshole who hurt her to a hockey net and shooting pucks at his dick feels like a decent punishment. If it was a girl, a puck to the pussy wouldn’t feel good either, so whichever way, I’m winning. One thing is for sure—no one will touch her ever again.
For the love of God, who am I?
Ignoring that answer and even that question, I cuddle her closer, kissing her jaw. I really should put some distance between us. I really should take my shirt and leave, but instead, I say, “Well, before I brought the muffin, it was coming in here. But after the muffin, it’s the latter.”
Her face is bright with a grin as she brings her hand up to cup my head. Her fingers thread into the hair at the back of my neck, and my eyes drift shut from the sensation. I love how she touches me. “Do you still wanna go upstairs?”
I do, but I shouldn’t. “Yes.”
Her eyes darken with desire, the brown so deep and breathtaking. She turns in my arms, wrapping her arms loosely around my neck. “Can I cook for you?”
I trap her in my arms, leaning on the desk and pressing my hips into hers. “Only if I can have you for an appetizer and dessert.”
Her breath catches. “So, we aren’t going to the store to get some muffin mix?”
My lips quirk at the side as I lean in, capturing her bottom lip with my teeth. I nibble softly before I kiss the skin. “I don’t need muffins anymore.” I cup her sex, and she gasps, arching into my hand. She’s wet, and it makes me want to take her right here. I slide my middle finger inside her, and she clutches my shoulders, her eyes widening before a soft moan leaves her lips. “I’ve got the sweetest dessert right here.” I move my finger out of her and then push two back in, her heat sending a burst of fire to my cock.
“Ciaran,” she breathes, and I’m lost.
“My love,” I say roughly against her lips. “I have every intention of devouring you.”
Her words are strangled as she cries, “Please. Ciaran, please.”
I remove my fingers and then pick her up, ignoring her complaints.
I only laugh as I carry her upstairs.
To consume her completely.