Page 53 of Until I Found You
Twenty
Graham
Two hands wrap low around my waist while I’m standing shirtless in the kitchen.
“You know it’s dangerous to cook without a shirt on,” she mumbles from behind me, pressing her lips against my spine as her fingers trail along the edge of my sweatpants.
“I’m a master in the kitchen,” I say, as her finger brushes against my cock. Setting the spatula on the counter, I turn in her arms to face her.
Her hair is wet, piled in a messy thing on her head. Her face is clean, and my God she looks so damn beautiful. I love seeing her making herself at home in my home.
“I remember how very skilled you are in this kitchen,” she says, hinting at our time together on the oak table just a few feet away.
“You look like a master,” she presses a kiss to my chest, peering up at me with an arch in her eyebrow, “in the kitchen” as she presses another kiss, “and of this house.”
“You are trouble,” I mutter, grabbing her so my hands frame her face as I kiss her lips roughly. “You’re more dangerous to me than you realize. I’d do anything for you. Absolutely anything, without care of the consequences or the repercussions. You make me reckless, Halle.”
Her eyes brighten, with a hint of a sparkle to them. She runs her teeth over her bottom lip and it takes all the focus I have left out of me. I want to wrap her in my arms, kiss her and take over biting that lip.
“Mm,” she moans, kissing a path over my chest. She drags her nails over my hips, along the waistband of my pants.
“Have I told you how fucking sexy you look in sweatpants?”
Raising my brow at her, I fold my arms in front of me. Her eyes trail over my chest, over my abs, to take in my pants. “Is that so?”
“You’re like sinful eye candy. You’re lucky I’d let you out of the house wearing those, much less the bedroom.”
She shakes her head, turning to grab two glasses from the cabinet setting them on the counter. She must pick up on my confusion as she turns, closing the distance between us once again.
She’s no more than a couple inches from me when she stops. I feel the heat radiating off her as she looks down between us, before her eyes meet mine once again. Her small hand reaches out, running over my cock, as I suck in a breath.
“Halle,” I respond sternly, warning her.
“I can see the outline of your dick in your pants, Graham,” she replies with the same firm tone. She leans forward, closing the distance between us, but her grip never loosens.
“I’m thirsty,” she says, smiling as she turns and pads over to the fridge just a few feet away.
She’s getting me back after how I played with her.
“Fucking trouble,” I groan.
The pan sizzles behind me forcing my attention away. I curse, seeing the smoke coming from the pan of eggs I had been cooking up until she came in here distracting me.
“Sorry, Master,” she jokes, as she opens the fridge door, grabbing the orange juice.
The eggs are dunzo, so I quickly scrape them off into the garbage and then crack two more in the pan starting over from scratch.
“We’re never going to eat if you keep that up. How about you stay over there for now?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” She giggles, pouring a glass of juice as she takes a seat on the counter facing me.
“There’s no fun,” I joke, looking at her legs in her yoga pants. They fit her like a fucking glove, leaving little to the imagination. I remember how great she looked just a few hours ago when she was sitting on the edge of the table. She must realize where my mind has drifted, as I mutter a quiet “fuck” turning my focus back on the eggs.
After a couple minutes go by, I attempt to change the subject. “I was thinking, I need to stop by my mom’s house today to get some yard work done. If you don’t have any plans, I’d love for you to join me. I know she’d be happy to see you too.”
“I thought I was yours all weekend. Tell me where you want me and I’m there.”
Turning to glance over my shoulder, I watch as she bites her lip again as she raises the glass of juice to her mouth. Pausing, I watch the way her throat swallows it down before my eyes find hers again.
