Page 86 of Kiss and Tell
I studied him as he cooked. There was a line between his brows as he concentrated on slicing tomatoes, but I caught a hint of a smile on his lips. As he moved back and around the kitchen, chopping and stirring and tasting, he seemed at ease.
I wondered if Connor found life boring now or if he was finally enjoying having some peace and quiet.
“Can I at least watch the pot to make sure it doesn’t boil over?” I asked.
“I suppose that’s safe enough,” he said.
I hopped up from the chair, glad to have something to do, and picked up the wooden spoon resting on the counter to gently stir the pasta.
“How are you finding the change of pace?” I asked, trying to be diplomatic about it.
“Hm?” He looked at me with an inquisitive lift of his eyebrow as he dipped a spoon into the sauce.
“Cooking at home,” I started. “Watching movies on the sofa. Painting walls. It’s not the hectic, fast-paced life I’m sure you’re used to.”
Connor paused in the middle of lifting the spoon to his lips for a taste. He cocked his head at me.
“Have you been worried about that?” he asked. “Whether or not I find things exciting enough?”
“I was thinking about how different everything must be for you.”
Connor put the spoon down. He went to the sink to wash his hands and dried them on a towel. He came up behind me where I was stirring the pot of pasta. He put his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Things are different,” he agreed. “For a while it was hard for me to adjust. But lately I’ve found things much easier.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “And a lot of it has to do with you.”
My belly warmed at the affection in his voice.
He planted a kiss lower, to the underside of my jaw.
My belly fluttered.
He went lower still, trailing his lips along my throat.
My thighs clenched.
“But just so we’re clear…” Connor tilted his hips, pressing against my backside, letting me feel the hardness rising in his jeans. “…I find youveryexciting.”
A thrill shot through me.
Connor ran a hand down my stomach, playing with the buttons on my blouse, until he reached the waistband of my skirt. He kept going, circling around down my hips to cup my ass, then dipping his fingers beneath the slit in my skirt at the back of my thighs. He traced a line between my lower lips and I stifled a moan as I leaned into his touch.
“The food—” I started to say.
“Fuck the food,” he growled.
He attacked my neck with his lips and teeth. I flicked off the stove, leaving the pasta in the pot. He grabbed me and flipped us until I was bent over, my breasts pressed against one of the cool countertops and his hips nestled firmly against my ass.
His rapidly hardening length was hot between my thighs, even through the fabric of his jeans. My mouth nearly watered at the thought of what was inside.
I let out a soft moan and arched my back, bucking up against him. My insides were already aching and needy.
How did Connor manage to do this to me every time? A single touch and I was his.
He pushed my skirt up to bunch around my waist, leaving my ass bare aside from my panties. He rubbed at me from behind, tracing my lower lips over the thin cotton with his fingers. I moaned and pushed my hips back against him, wanting more.
He circled a thumb against my clit. I gasped sharply, the material doing nothing to dampen the sensation.
It wasn’t enough. I needed more.
