“Then don’t.” She turned in his arms, facing him. “You’ve been avoiding me.” Hurt flickered in her pretty brown eyes, an emotion he’d never intended to put there.
He slid a finger over her cheek, stroking the smooth skin. “I thought you needed time away from me.”
Her lips pursed in a pout he wanted to kiss away. “What I don’t need is you making decisions for me.” She locked her fingers around his neck, meeting his gaze. “Everything about you makes me nervous but maybe that’s a good thing. I need to face my fears, right?” she said, more to herself than to him.
“You’re afraid of me?” That didn’t sound like a good thing.
She shook her head. “I’m afraid of what you remind me of.” She paused. “Who you remind me of. But that’s not fair. So for the time that you’re here, I’m going to try to be more open-minded.”
He nodded in approval. “I appreciate that. I never want to be someone who frightens you.”
“You don’t.” She spread her fingers through his hair and his body sensitized at her touch.
He inhaled long and hard, the scent of cinnamon reaching his nose. “What are you baking?” he asked.
“Oh, I see. You just want me for my goodies,” she said with a grin.
He chuckled, low and deep. “That I do,” he said, just not elaborating on which of her goodies he desired most.
“I’m making cinnamon rolls.”
He nuzzled her neck, enjoying being this close to her. “Let me take you out.”
“Like on a real date?” She sounded excited at the prospect.
“Yeah. Like on a real date. What’s your favorite restaurant nearby?”
She tipped her head back and met his gaze. “Hmm. There’s a steak place in the center of town. Gabriel’s. It’s our nicest restaurant. Which isn’t saying much. Nice jeans are perfect. I don’t need anything more than that.” She eyed him warily, as if expecting him to disagree.
He patted the tip of her nose with his finger. “Just because I’m from Manhattan doesn’t mean I need an upscale restaurant to make me happy. It’s more about the company than the place. And you’re all I need to enjoy the night.”
A smile lit up her face. “Then I’d love to go out with you.”
More than pleased with her response, he leaned in and sealed his lips over hers, moaning at the sweetness he tasted there. She tangled her hands back into his hair and kissed him as he backed her against the counter, his dick settled into the cradle of her hips, pressing hard into her.
“Your father,” he muttered, trying to be aware that he wasn’t in the right place to make out with the man’s daughter.
“He’s out for breakfast with a friend. He won’t be home for hours.” She tugged on his hair, urging him to stop talking and resume kissing.
He did as she silently requested, recapturing her mouth and thrusting inside. What happened next was an immediate dueling of tongues and grinding of hips, the desire that they’d been holding in check boiling over. He rocked against her, taking his cues from the soft sighs and moans coming from deep in her throat.
He eased one hand between them, lifted her apron, and unbuttoned her jeans, sliding his fingers beneath her panties, coming into contact with bare skin.
He swore at the heat and slickness that greeted him, his cock throbbing against the harsh denim of his pants. Gritting his teeth, he focused on her, his fingers gliding over her smooth skin before settling on her clit.
Her hips bucked and she groaned, pulling tighter on his hair. “Easy, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
As he began to circle his finger over the tight bud, her dampness eased his way as he worked to bring her higher. She shuddered against him, her hips circling in rhythm with his increasingly harder caress.
He wanted to see her come for him. Wanted her to come hard. So when she got too deep into her head and fears, she’d remember this. Him.
He licked at her lips, continued kissing her while he pinched her clit and she screamed, a sound he caught in his mouth, as she shook and trembled against him.
He lifted his head in time to see the rosy glow in her cheeks and the dazed look in her eyes as she came back to reality. Damned if a part of him wasn’t proud of that look and fucking aroused by it.
He kissed her nose, slid his hand out from her pants, and helped her pull herself together, buttoning her jeans and straightening her apron.
Grinning, she smoothed his hair with her fingers. “I made a mess.”
She could pull his hair any time, he thought. “You good?”
She nodded. “I need to clean up. The kitchen. I mean I need to clean up the kitchen,” she said, her blush a sweet and refreshing difference from the more experienced women who propositioned him back home.