Lingerie Wars (Invertary 1)

Instead she found herself kissing the impossible man. Kissing and wanting. Her leg draped over his hip even though her brain was telling her that it was daylight and things were different now. He grunted his approval and slid a hand under the dressing gown to caress her backside. He pressed towards her and she could feel all of him—morning ready and wanting her.

“You need to go,” she said when she came up for air. But her heart wasn’t in it.

“Don’t want to,” he said as his lips found her neck.

He was making her dizzy again.

“Seriously. It’s daylight. We have things to do.”

“I’m doing them,” he mumbled against her skin.

He was the most frustrating man she’d ever met. Kirsty smiled in spite of herself. His hand covered her breast and she grinned with pleasure. Oh, she wanted him badly. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to be seen. With difficulty, she disentangled herself, scrambled over the bed and stood beside it. On the far side from Lake.

“If you get up fast, I’ll make you breakfast.”

He looked down at himself, then cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I’m already up.”

Kirsty rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you want me.”

She turned away. Lake let out an almighty growl.

“I was showing you how much I want you, woman,” he shouted after her.

Grinning, Kirsty went to put on the coffee pot.

“I’ll have to sneak you out the back door,” she told him when he came into the kitchen.

He’d only managed to pull on his jeans, and he hadn’t even bothered to button them. A vision of herself trailing her tongue down his chest to that button popped into her mind. Her gaze followed the path she would take and she sighed. When she looked up he was smiling at her, his eyes dark.

“Want to cancel the day and go back to bed? You can blindfold me if you don’t want me to see anything.” He held out his hands in front of him, crossed at the wrists. “You can tie them if you don’t want me to touch.”

Oh, oh, oh, the things those words did to her. She shut her eyes to block out the pictures, but they were still in her head.

“You’re leaving,” she said, disgusted to find her voice croaked. “By the back door.”

He looked like he knew better, but he conceded. For now.

“I’m starving,” he said as he plopped into one of the stools at the breakfast counter. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Sausage, eggs, black pudding, toast and beans.”

“Ah, the Scottish heart attack.”

“Do you want this food or not?” She waved a silicon fish slice at him.

“Yes. I want the food. Then I want to go back to bed.”

Kirsty sighed with exasperation, but grinned when she turned back to the frying pan. He helped himself to some of the juice she’d placed on the counter. He was entirely out of place in her world. Too big. Too manly. Too muscled. Everything about him screamed that he expected the world to adapt to him and not the other way around.

“So, where do we stand on the therapy list?” he said.

“It’s done.” The last thing she wanted was to discuss her little cupboard episode.

“I’d better look and see.”