Page 4 of Stuffed

"Now that's my kind of language," she teases, and we both laugh, the tension temporarily dispersed. We set to work side by side, the scents of pine and cinnamon swirling around us as we begin preparing the feast. Despite the growing heat in the kitchen, I find myself drawn to her like a moth to flame.

As we work, I make a point of brushing past her "accidentally," my body thrumming with awareness each time our skin touches. I catch her glancing at me through lowered lashes, and I know she feels it too. The chemistry between us is undeniable, as potent as the aromas wafting through the air.

And I dare to hope that this beautiful creature wants me too.

As the morning sun filters through the windows, casting dappled shadows on her face, I can't help but recall the countless nights I've spent watching her online, fantasizing about this verymoment. I've imagined every curve of her body, every breathy moan she'd utter as I taste my way across her skin. It's all I've thought about since I saw her for the first time, cooking up that decadent concoction with a flirty smile and a twinkle in her eye.

I'd known then and there, with a bone-deep certainty, that I needed her in my life. And now, here she is, standing just inches away from me, her delicious scent mingling with the mouthwatering fragrances of our Thanksgiving feast.

As we work side by side, chopping vegetables and prepping ingredients, I find myself drawn into conversation with Claire, eager to learn more about her life and passions. "So, what brings you to our little corner of the world?" she asks, her eyes bright with curiosity. "I heard you inherited the inn from your uncle?"

I nod, a wistful smile tugging at my lips. "Yeah, it was unexpected. He passed away a few months ago, and I found out he'd left me this place in his will. It felt like a sign, you know? A chance to start fresh, to build something of my own."

Claire's expression softens with sympathy. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says gently. "It must have been a big decision, leaving your old life behind like that."

"It was," I agree, my gaze drifting to the window, where the autumn leaves dance in the breeze. "But sometimes, you just know when it's time for a change. When an opportunity presents itself, you have to grab it with both hands."

My words hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. I can feel Claire's eyes on me, searching my face for clues to the secrets I'm not yet ready to reveal. The truth is, my uncle's death was just the catalyst I needed to finally pursue my obsession with her. But I can't tell her that, not yet. Not when I've just begun to earn her trust.

Instead, I steer the conversation back to safer ground, regaling her with tales of my culinary adventures in the city. She listens intently, her laughter ringing out like music as I describesome of my more disastrous experiments in the kitchen. All the while, I'm acutely aware of her presence beside me, the heat of her body, the brush of her arm against mine as we work.

As the morning wears on, the tension between us grows, simmering like a pot on the verge of boiling over. Every accidental touch, every lingering glance feels charged with electricity, until the air practically crackles with it. And when Claire reaches across me for a spice jar, her fingers grazing my hand, I can't help but let out a soft hiss of breath.

She glances up at me through her lashes, her cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry," she murmurs, but I can tell by the gleam in her eye that she's not sorry at all.

"No problem," I manage, my voice rougher than usual. "I'm just excited to get this turkey stuffed. Among other things."

The words slip out before I can stop them, laced with innuendo. Claire's eyes widen, and she bites her lip, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink at my bold innuendo. She tries to play it cool, busying herself with the stuffing mixture, but I can see the effect my words have had on her. The air between us is thick with tension, crackling with unspoken desire.

I step closer, crowding into her personal space until I can feel the heat radiating off her body. She keeps her eyes downcast, focused intently on her task, but her hands tremble slightly as she works. I reach out, my fingers grazing the delicate skin of her wrist, and she sucks in a sharp breath.

"Careful," I murmur, my voice low and intimate. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

Claire swallows hard, finally meeting my gaze. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with arousal. "I can handle myself just fine," she says, but her voice wavers slightly.

I lean in even closer until my lips are just a hairsbreadth from her ear. "Oh, I have no doubt about that," I breathe. "Butsometimes it's more fun to let someone else take the reins, don't you think?"

She shivers, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When she opens them again, there's a new intensity burning in their depths. "Is that what you want, Jax?" she asks, her voice husky. "To take the reins?"

I let my gaze travel slowly down her body, taking in every lush curve, every tantalizing inch of her. "Oh, sweetheart," I drawl. "You have no idea what I want to do to you."

Fuck, it’s all I can do to hold back. My cock is dripping precum in my pants, and I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed the obscene tent it’s making yet.

Claire's breath hitches, her lips parting slightly. I can practically taste her desire, sweet and heady on my tongue. It takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to close the distance between us, to claim her mouth with my own and lose myself in her intoxicating kiss.

But I force myself to hold back, to savor the delicious tension building between us. I want to draw this out, to tease and tantalize her until she's trembling with need, until she's begging me for more.

Until there’s absolutely no way she’ll deny me.

My cock throbs insistently against the confines of my jeans, hard as steel and aching for her touch. I shift slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but it's no use. Every movement, every brush of fabric against my sensitive skin only serves to heighten my arousal.

Claire's gaze flickers downward, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the prominent bulge at the front of my pants. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, a seemingly unconscious gesture that sends a bolt of pure lust straight to my groin.

She blushes furiously, tearing her gaze away from my crotch. "I...we should get…” she trips over her words and trails off.

I lean in closer, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. "What's the matter, Claire?" I murmur, my voice a low rumble. "Feeling a little flustered?"

She shivers, her breath coming faster now. "I...we have a lot of work to do," she manages, but her voice lacks conviction.

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