Page 61 of Go Cook Yourself

In record time, I’m diving under the blanket. “Goodnight then, Ruby.”

“Goodnight, Garett,” she says breathlessly, causing my cock to jolt.

Stay strong. You can’t let her get hurt.

“I’m not fragile, you know.”

Shit, did I say the hurt thing out loud?

“I know you’re not.”

“Good. I wanted to check,” she adds. Her voice is low enough to thrum through my body.

“Good.”

I turn away from her, but I can tell by how she’s breathing—practically panting, unless that’s me—that she’s not asleep. I grind my teeth. I want to be between her legs. Make her really pant. I grind my teeth harder.

“Do you normally sleep with a mouth guard?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

I turn to face her, and sensing my movement, she turns to face me. Her eyes are dulled.

“You had one in the van when you drove me to the wine warehouse that time. And you grind your teeth.”

“Do I?”

I can smell passion fruit and the wine. She smells like heaven.

“You do. A lot. I’m surprised you have any teeth left.”

“I stopped doing it for a while, but now I only do it around you,” I stutter. In the last week, it’s come back in force. I don’t want her to think I’m some teeth-grinding serial killer.

Her brow furrows, and she worries her lip. I want to be licking and biting that lip. “Why me? I thought we got on.”

My senses are heightened. I can’t stop the words that flee from my mouth, even though I know once they’re out, I won’t be able to drag them back in. “Because I want you. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you.”

“But you were angry with me.”

“I was angry, full stop. But my wants haven’t stopped, and getting to know you has made it worse.”

“Worse?”

I blame the snow and the silence and the bed and the alcohol and her soft skin for what I say next, even though I know it’s me. It’s all me.

“Worse, better, either way, it’s always there. I fantasise about what will make you moan. I long to bury my face between your thighs and see your head thrown back as I slide my fingers inside you. I want you to ride me with that black lace bra with the pretty pink flowers. I—”

Her mouth against mine silences me. The scent of passion fruit swirls around my head as she sucks on my lower lip. Her hands burrow into my hair. We’re a tangle of blankets and frenzy as she tries to climb on me, but the material keeps getting in the way.

Weeks of passion explode as she moans into my mouth. It’s frantic and messy, and I love every second. She teases my lipsapart with her tongue and explores mine with an unexpected tenderness.

I could kiss this woman for hours, but one-off sex prohibits longing kisses for me. Not that we’ve agreed to anything. I push her hair to the side, the blond waves splayed around her head, and brush my lips against her neck. She gasps before growling, “Garett.”

I need her to say my name precisely like that again. My cock presses against my boxer briefs as she writhes above me, but with all these blankets surrounding us, it’s like we’re trapped.

“Wait,” I finally say as she bucks against me. She bites that lip in a way that shows her worry, but it makes me want to soothe it with my tongue. “Wait.”

Chapter Thirty-One

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