Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

“What are you doing, Dylan?”

My eyes shoot up to find his on me. “Just … thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Your body.

“I … um …” I laugh. “Thinking about how that kiwifruit makes things soft.”

“Really?” He pretends to consider that. “I don’t know that I’d go with soft.”

“That’s true. Nobody likes soft meat.”

His smirk digs deeper as he sets the knife down. “How do you like your meat, Dylan?”

I have no idea if we’re still talking about actual meat or not, but I’m willing to play this game. If for no other reason than to see his face when he wears the look like he wants to eat me.

I gulp. “Hearty.”

He chuckles.

“Or aged to perfection,” I offer.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“What word do you prefer?” I ask. “To describe meat, of course.”

He sticks his tongue in the side of his cheek. He’s such an insane mix of playful and sexy that I don’t know which to focus on. My cheeks ache from smiling, but my thighs burn from desire.

“I’d say … hand-rubbed,” he says.

“Well done.”

“What? My comeback or that’s how you like your meat too?”

We laugh together, the sound filling the room.

He plants both palms on the counter behind him and gives it a shove. The momentum sends him across the kitchen toward me.

I can’t look away as he gets closer. My heart thumps in my chest, sending a flow of blood over my ears that makes me dizzy.

He stops in front of me and peers down. The playfulness is still there, but it’s overshadowed by the heat in his eyes.

I want him even though it goes against everything I know is right for me. He’s in love with someone else, and I’m likely just a rebound of sorts who’s being used as a tool to the nth degree. And when it doesn’t work, he can eject me out of here like yesterday’s trash.

But right now, looking up into those gorgeous eyes of his, I just. Don’t. Care. I’ll deal with it later.

“You standing this close to me isn’t fair,” I tell him.

“Why?”

His voice is a dead giveaway to the fact that he wants to see if there’s any fire under all this smoke billowing between us.

“Because I want to touch you, and you know that.”

It takes a few seconds for that to register. When it does, I know.

He adjusts his weight, widening his stance to encapsulate both of my feet. He surrounds me with his wide frame as a grin touches his lips.

“Since when do you not do what you want?” he teases.

“I can touch?” I wink, making that smirk of his grow.

“You most definitely can touch.”

Letting my hands land on his abs, I rub around and then dip under his shirt. It wasn’t the kitchen that’s been bringing the heat. His warm skins heats mine, and my breathing quickens.

“Why are you so irresistible?” I breathe the words out because I’m a hot mess of a turned-on and insatiable.

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve felt like this.

His arms wrap around me. He holds me tight against him, his chest rising and falling as wildly as mine.

His body is hard and steady, and I could stay all day with my cheek pressed against his chest. He leans down, his lips fluttering against my ear.

“I could ask you the same the question,” he says. “But why bother with small talk when I can show you.”

The moment his lips land on my neck, I close my eyes and tilt my head to the side, never wanting a man more than I do him. I was flirting—both with him and the line between us—but now I want him. I need him.

I glance at the oven timer. “We have time. Just saying.”

A chuckle vibrates from his chest. “How much?”

My breathing goes in and out at a ragged pace. I lean back to see his face. “Twenty-five minutes.”

“I only need ten.”

I start to laugh as his face wrinkles in disgust.

“Calling it like it is,” he says. “You know what I mean. I’m not going to last long with you.”

I slide my hands in his hair. My body angles toward his. “As long as it’s a good ten minutes.” I can’t stop myself from laughing.

He rolls his eyes, but then his arms tighten around me, and he lifts me on top of the counter. “Damn straight, it will be.”

“Time’s a ticking, Wesley.”

He nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck. “I love a challenge, but I’m not sure if I want to win this one or not.”

I pull away and take his face in my hands. It’s smooth, freshly shaven, as I hold his jaw in my palms. If I continue, this will be a go. There will be no way out. But as I watch him lick his lips, his eyes as constant and unshakable as I know him to be, I realize a truth: I’m already all in.