Page 51 of Enticing the Fixer

I narrow my eyes. “Doing what?”

“Taking a shower.”

“I see that.” I shut the door with a snap and drop my purse on the end table.

“I didn’t take care of my needs if that’s what has you all hot and bothered.”

I sniff. Garlic and pasta. My eyes widen. I smell food. Now my mouth is watering for a different reason.

“That does make me feel better.” I step closer to him and run my finger down his chest, stopping at his nipple and giving one of the bars a tug. His eyes darken as he braces his feet apart. “But now you’re going to have to wait because I want whatever’s in the kitchen.”

My hand drops lower, getting ever so close to the bulge in his sweatpants. “Although, it’s such a struggle because I feel so dirty and could have used a nice, hot shower.” I glance up and stare into his eyes. “Getting all soaped up. Water trailing over my breasts. Scrubbing the ache between my legs until I’m satisfied.”

“Yeah. I should have waited.”

“It’s too late. You’re already clean.” I slip my fingers through the light patch of hair that leads below the waistband of his sweats. “But more importantly, it smells so good in here.” I drop my hand to my side.

“Babe,” he growls, and before I can register what he’s doing, his arms cage me between his hard body and the door. He smells like sandalwood and musk combined with the intense scent of his soap.

I lick my lips as my heart thunders in my chest. I don’t know when I’ll get used to his overpowering sexuality, and my intense response to him but it won’t be today.

“If you want to tease me, I’ve got all night.” His mouth descends until the only thing between us is our combined breath.

I inhale and place my palms on his chest. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than tease you all night.” I tilt my head back and smile. “And eat.”

He rolls his eyes. “Always with the food.” His mouth crashes against mine, causing my knees to wobble. He’s soft yet demanding as his tongue slips between my lips and feasts on me. He tastes faintly of mint and something else.

I press harder on his chest and jerk backward. Garlic and bread. “You ate.”

“What?” His eyes are swirling vortexes of lust as he tries to make sense of the words I said.

“You ate a breadstick.” I grab his hand and sniff. “Damn you. You pretended you were coming from the shower, but you were eating a breadstick.”

I stomp past him and march through the living room and into the kitchen. The space is littered with dirty dishes, from pots and pans to mixing bowls and ladles. He cooked for me.

As the butterflies in my stomach do a flip and flop to the bottom of my belly, tears sting my eyes. He cooked for me. I spin in a circle to face him. His shoulder is pressed into the door jam. Looking sexy as fuck.

I’m falling for him. This is so not good. What about my independence? My, ‘I’m a strong self-reliant woman’ motto?

He arches an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Thank you for cooking for me.”

He winks and pushes off the wall, stalking toward me. “Anything for you, Smitten. You’re my queen.”

“Shit.” I shake my head.

“What?” He feigns innocence, but he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I’m a strong and independent woman who can stand on her own two feet.”

“You are.” He cups the back of my head. “The queen is always in control. And the king is at her mercy.”

I hook my thumbs under the waistband of his sweats. “Are you for real?”

“Yes, Babe. For you, I’m for real.”

This time when his mouth lands on mine, I forget all about the food and fall against him. I love the feel of his solid chest against me. Work lasted too long.

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