Page 23 of Craving

He rounded on her, caging her against the kitchen counter. A dangerous glint lit his eyes. “I don’t need to rescind anything, sweetheart. If anyone seems wound up, it’s you.” He inched ever so slightly closer, his voice dropping. “I’m not letting another man take care of that problem while you’re staying under my roof.”

That sounded like a promise. That sounded like Marlon wanted to take care of that problem himself. Camilla’s breath caught, but she lifted her chin and lied: “I’m completely fine.”

“You practically dragged me forward and mauled my face, you wanted me so badly.”

“Now you’re just making things up.”

“If you need some alone time with the shower head, you go right ahead. I’ll wait down here until you’re done.”

“Don’t be crass, Marlon. Unless you need some alone time in the shower, in which case I’ll wait. What do you need? Thirty, thirty-five seconds?”

He barked out a laugh, his body crowding hers. Warmth bled all down Camilla’s front, and she pretended it was only because of his body heat and not because of the lust going off like sparklers in her veins.

She had almost mauled his face. In fact, she wanted to do it right now. His beard would abrade her skin. His big hands would coast over her body, claiming it for his own. She could nearly get herself off just thinking about it. Desire gnawed at the edges of her stomach, her hunger for him entering a new stage.

But Marlon pushed off the counter when the kettle started whistling. He turned the burner off, then Camilla’s timer began to ring. She busied herself removing the cookies from the oven and kept her eyes far, far away from Marlon’s.

Marlon could still taste chocolate chip cookies when he closed the door to his bedroom. Scrubbing his face, he let out a long breath. Every time he was away from Camilla, he’d berate himself about falling into old patterns. But the minute he’d see her face, all that would melt away and all he wanted to do was care for her.

Well. That wasn’t all he wanted to do, unless screwing her until they both lost their minds counted as caring for the woman.

Their new house rule was redundant, because Marlon hadn’t thought of any other woman since the moment Leo had arranged for her to live here in this house. He wanted her desperately. Anytime she moved, or spoke, or laughed, Marlon twisted himself into knots to stop himself from pouncing on her.

He was glad she was staying longer than she’d anticipated. He’d only been half-kidding when he told her to never leave.

Waking up to Camilla in his kitchen, humming to herself in her frilly little apron, was the sweetest thing he’d ever experienced. It made him hard as stone to see her glance over her shoulder and smile at him, her apron strings tied into a big, floppy bow at the base of her spine.

He needed to get her a new apron. Her old one was singed beyond repair. Maybe one day, she’d wear it for him with nothing else underneath. He could bend her over the kitchen counter and have her in her floral, ruffly apron while something delicious baked in the oven. Closing his eyes, Marlon let out a long breath.

He couldn’t pretend this was just some innate protective instinct anymore. This was something utterly different.

A noise interrupted his thoughts. Marlon paused, still standing inside his bedroom door, and tried to place it. It was faint. Buzzing? Murmuring?

He opened his door and the noise got louder. Definitely buzzing. Marlon glanced at the bathroom, but it was empty. So it wasn’t Camilla’s electric toothbrush. He paused and listened—and realized the noise was coming from Camilla’s room.

All the blood in Marlon’s body rushed to his groin so fast he nearly fell over. Lightheaded, he braced himself on the hallway wall and heaved a breath just in time to hear a faint, barely-there whimper. The buzzing got louder.

She had a vibrator, and she was using it just a few feet away from him.

Marlon’s zipper gave way to his insistent tugs. He had his pants around his thighs so fast, he had to waddle into the open bathroom to lock himself inside. From there, he could just hear the buzzing coming from Camilla’s room through the paper-thin wall that separated them. For once, Marlon was grateful for the old house, for all its noises and creaks and lack of soundproofing.

He had his hand around his cock before he could think better of it. The thought of Camilla with her legs spread on her bed, rubbing that vibrator over her clit, shoving it inside…

The softest, faintest noise reached his ears, like she’d gasped or tried to hold back a moan. Maybe she had moaned and the wall had muffled it. Maybe she was thinking about him right now. Thinking about what could have happened in the kitchen with him.

He jerked himself off faster, wishing he had the right to open her door and join her. Wishing it was him holding that toy, torturing her, watching her cheeks flush pink as he brought her to orgasm.

Cock hard as stone and rational mind down for the count, Marlon imagined Camilla spread-eagle for him, under him, on her hands and knees before him, bouncing on top of him. A thousand images flicked through his mind. He imagined how her lips would look wrapped around his cock. Imagined how she’d tug his hair when he licked her pussy. Imagined her riding his face while he grabbed big handfuls of her beautiful thighs.

Biting back a groan of his own, he grabbed a washcloth just in time. His orgasm was as violent as it was sudden, tearing his body into pieces where he stood. Blinking, he came back to himself and realized he was standing in the middle of his bathroom with his pants at his knees, his chest heaving in big, violent gasps. A thin sheen of sweat covered him, and his muscles felt loose and tired.

The buzzing had stopped.

Marlon took another shuddering breath and turned on the shower.

EIGHT

Nervous energy filled Camilla as the clock counted down to her appointed time with Fred and Nadia. Her cakes were delicious, and her designs were beautiful. She was confident in her abilities. Still, a lot was riding on bagging this job.

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