Page 79 of Simply Yours

It was so embarrassing to say something like this to the guy she’d adored for so long. Her cheeks burned. “Can we talk about something else?” she asked quickly, nervously.

He exhaled sharply. “We probably should.” His voice was hoarse, rougher than before and creating goose bumps on her skin, sending shivers of awareness up her spine.

Caitlin hesitated, trying to break the moment. “I think I’m done working my dough.”

“Me too,” he said immediately.

“I’ll get the proofing baskets,” she offered, slipping off the counter.

Jason frowned. “What’s that for?”

“So I can watch it rise…”

The second the words left her mouth, she froze.

Jason just stood there, blinking at her, an eyebrow raised in slow, dawning amusement.

“Really… did youreallyjust say that,Catnip?” His voice was husky, and just the way he said her name sent a delicious shiver down her spine.

“You arereallya perv,” she muttered, her face heating as she turned away.

Caitlin barely had a moment to react before Jason’s laughter rumbled through the small kitchen, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. It was deep, rich, and full of something unspoken, something that curled around her like a warm embrace. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in that signature smirk of his.

“I’m a man standing here with the woman I care for, who is talking about scoring and watching things rise. What else am I supposed to think?”

Heat coiled low in Caitlin’s stomach at the teasing rasp in his voice. His words should have flustered her, should have had her fumbling for some sharp-witted retort, but instead, they wrapped around her, sinking into the very marrow of her bones. She met his gaze head-on, arching a brow as if daring him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Not this time. The teasing edge in his voice softened, giving way to something heavier, something that made her pulse trip and her breath catch.

Jason lifted a hand, fingers twitching slightly as if drawn to her, as if the urge to touch her was something primal, something instinctual. A lock of hair had fallen loose from her ponytail, tumbling forward like a silky ribbon, and she knew—knew with absolute certainty—that he was about to tuck it behind her ear, about to let his fingers brush over her skin in that slow, deliberate way that sent her heart into a tailspin.

But then he hesitated. His gaze flicked down to his hands, still dusted with sticky remnants of dough and flour, and he let out a quiet breath, his lips pressing together in frustration.

Caitlin’s heart squeezed at the sight of it—this big, capable man, who could command a room with just a glance, now standing before her with hesitation in his eyes, as if uncertain. As if holding back for her benefit, to keep her from getting dirty.

A knowing smile curved her lips. Slowly, she raised her own hands, palms up, revealing fingers just as flour-coated, just as messy. The air between them thickened, the world around them shrinking to the space they occupied, to the steady, quiet thrum of anticipation that buzzed in her ears.

Jason’s gaze flicked from her hands to her face, his expression unreadable. And then—so slowly she barely registered the movement—he reached for her.

Their fingers tangled together, sticky, warm, and utterly unbothered by the mess between them. His grip was strong, sure, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. The kitchen, the flour-covered countertops, the lingering scent of cinnamon and sugar—it all faded into the background as something unspoken passed between them, something raw and undeniable.

Caitlin swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper when she asked, “Why do you keep calling meCatnip, Jason?”

The question had been plaguing her for weeks, lingering in the back of her mind, but now, with their hands still entwined, with the weight of his gaze locked onto hers, it felt like the most important thing she had ever asked.

Jason’s expression softened, the intensity in his eyes melting into something molten, something that sent a slow, shivering warmth through her veins.

“Because you drive me wild when you are around,” he murmured, his voice thick with honesty, rough with longing. His fingers tightened around hers as if afraid she might slip away. “And I want nothing more than to be close to you, breathe you in, taste those lips, and rub myself all over you.”

Her breath hitched.

His free hand lifted this time without hesitation, sliding along the curve of her cheek, his thumb sweeping the faintest trace of flour from her skin. Then he leaned down, closing the distance between them with excruciating slowness, his breath feathering over her lips before finally pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss that stole the air from her lungs.

Soft. Unyielding.

A declaration.

“My beloved catnip,” he breathed against her lips.

And just like that, she was undone.

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