Page 41 of Scorched

“Then you should have bought chocolate for yourself instead of peach.” She turned around, laughing, but being careful of his ribs, hoping to twist out of his reach. But all it did was allow him to trap her between the counter and his body. The pie took a backseat as the feel of him pressed the length of her registered.

He noticed too. His eyes darkened, the pupils growing large. The hand holding hers loosened to slide up her arm so he could thread his fingers into her hair.

“Maggie.” His voice came out as a low whisper.

In response, she tipped her face toward his, then watched as he descended toward her. Anticipation sent goosebumps rippling over her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed a second before his lips touched hers. Excitement raced over every nerve in her body. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but her hands were full.

He didn’t have that problem, though. The hand in her hair tightened, holding her head in place. His other hand curved over her hip to bring her closer as he deepened the kiss. Her knees turned watery as his tongue swept into her mouth to taste the inner recesses. She’d imagined what this would be like—dreamed about it, even—but it didn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

By the time he pulled back, her brain was mush and her legs were noodles.

He rested his hand on the back of her neck, staring at her.

“Wow,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah.” He let go and took a half-step back. His eyes dropped to the container squished between them. The whipped cream was smeared all over the sides, but had thankfully stayed in the box. He snatched the fork from her numb fingers, scooping up a bite of the sweet confection.

She wasn’t even mad. The opposite, in fact, as she watched the plastic fork slide through those delectable lips that just kissed her senseless.

“That’s still good pie. But it tastes better on you.”

Lord have mercy! Heat rushed south at the low gravel of his voice uttering those words. She leaned into the counter for support.

His mouth quirked.

The rat! He knew exactly the effect he had on her. But she still couldn’t bring herself to be angry. She was too damn aroused.

He stuck the fork in the pie. “I’m going to go take a shower. Maybe find a book and relax. You should too. You’re very tense.”

She found her voice again at his light-hearted teasing. A smile spread over her face. “I wonder why?” She put the pie down. He wasn’t going anywhere until she got to fully participate. She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his.

That was the last bit of control she had over the kiss. He closed the gap between them with a groan. She swept her hands into his dark copper hair and held on as he drove her higher with his tongue and masterful hands. They ghosted under her shirt and over her back, raising more goosebumps and leaving behind a trail of fire.

Maggie broke the kiss long enough to hop up on the counter. He stepped between her legs, and she locked her ankles behind his back, returning her mouth to his. His fingers dove back beneath her shirt to find her breasts. He pulled down the stretchy fabric of her sports bra and cupped their heavy weight in his hands.

She wanted to touch, too, and tugged his polo from his jeans. Her first touch to his abdomen elicited a quick intake of breath. Too quick. He hissed sharply and pulled back.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked. “I’m sorry.”

“No. It wasn’t you. My body just isn’t healed enough for this. Not with the way you make me feel. I forget I’m not a hundred percent when you touch me.”

“Ditto.” She unlocked her ankles, and he stepped back. She hopped down.

“I’m going to take that shower now.”

She nodded. His eyes stayed on hers for another moment before he turned and left. Maggie sagged against the counter, the starch gone from her legs. She picked up her fork, taking a bite of the rich treat as she stared after him. It was good, but it wasn’t what she wanted now; that had just walked upstairs.

---