Page 122 of Hometown Touchdown
He tosses the mitts onto the counter and steps behind me again, wrapping both arms around my waist and pressing his mouth to the side of my neck.
“Timer’s set,” he murmurs.
I hum. “Still want to drizzle chocolate over the top when they’re done?”
He pulls back just enough to give me that lazy, devilish grin. “Drizzle? Baby girl, you say words like that and then act surprised when I want to taste it off your skin.”
I don’t even fight the blush.
I melt the chocolate slowly in a saucepan while Knox leans against the counter beside me, watching like I’m the main course. The rich, sweet scent swirls between us, and when I test the temperature with a finger and lick it off—slowly—his body visibly tightens.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “You do that again and we’re never making it to the cookies.”
I dip another finger. Suck it clean.
“Oh,” I say. “Is that a promise?”
He’s on me in a second. His hand slides up my side, slow and sure, bunching the oversized shirt up with it. He kisses a line from my neck to my shoulder, then to the base of my throat, and whispers, “Take this off for me, baby girl.”
Before I can respond, he’s already doing it himself—tugging his shirt off my body. When I’m bare from the waist up, standing there in nothing but my underwear and a cloud of tension so thick I could chew it, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath.
“Is it crazy that I love you naked in my kitchen?” he mutters, eyes raking over me.
He dips two fingers into the now-cooled chocolate, then meets my gaze—dark, hungry, reverent.
“Hold still.”
His fingers trail a line of chocolate over the top of my breasts, slow and thick and warm. My breath stutters as I look down and watch him paint me like dessert. Then he bends. And licks.
His tongue drags across my skin in a slow, filthy stripe, collecting every drop of chocolate before he sucks one nipple into his mouth, licking deep, teasing, pulling another gasp from my throat.
“Knox—”
“You taste so good, baby girl,” he murmurs, kissing the other breast, warm and wet and worshipping. “Like sugar and mine.”
My hands thread into his hair, my back arching toward his mouth, begging for more.
“You love this,” he says against my skin.
“God, yes,” I breathe. “More.”
He kisses his way down my ribs, my stomach, chocolate smeared across his lips like he was born to ruin me. His hands slide around to my ass, kneading, squeezing, tugging me closer until I’m breathless and unsteady.
“Turn around,” he rasps. “Hands on the counter.”
I obey, spine tingling as I brace my palms on the cool granite and feel him come up behind me, warm and solid and ready.
“Still want dessert?” I ask, my voice barely steady.
He leans in and bites my shoulder, gentle but possessive. “Youaredessert. Let’s see if I can make this pussy come before the timer goes off.”
I feel him line up behind me, one hand wrapped around my hip, the other slipping between my legs to tease me open. I’m already pulsing, ready to fall apart for him.
“Say it,” he growls, dragging the head of his cock through my slick heat.
“I want you,” I whisper. “Please, Knox.”
“You got me, baby girl.”
