“You look pretty,” he observed, and she dropped her gaze. His words made her feel shy and a bit self-conscious.
“Thank you.” She picked up a damp cloth and started wiping down kitchen surfaces, busywork to keep her hands occupied. “I see you’ve managed to dress yourself today.”
He glanced down at himself and grinned unrepentantly.
“I figured I was busted.”
“So busted,” she said with a mock glare. “So what was the point of the shirt sham?”
“Shirt sham? I like that,” he said with a chuckle. “I wanted to make you hot for me. And I thought if you got to see my pecs and abs every day, you’d start throwing yourself at me.”
“Pecs and abs?” she scoffed, trying to hide her smile. “In case it’s escaped your notice, you’re as thin as the proverbial rail at the moment.”
“Wow, does my fragile male ego mean nothing to you, woman?” he asked woefully, and she rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know, my manly form is making a comeback thanks to your smashing meals.”
“Good to know,” she said, unable to fight the smile any longer. “Then you’d better eat up.”
She placed his full English breakfast on the table in front of him, and he looked down with an expectant grin. The smile faded abruptly and Lia looked at his plate, wondering if there was a hair in his food or some other bit of nastiness that she hadn’t noticed.
Sam stared down at his perfectly delicious-looking, perfectly ordinary plate of food. No faces or flowers this morning. Just two eggs, bacon, mushrooms, sausages, and toast. For a second he wondered if she was upset with him over something, but then he remembered his dickishness of the previous morning. She was just giving him what he’d demanded—edible food without any pointless, pretty fripperies.
And yet . . . he felt ripped off. He didn’t understand why he felt that way, and he damned well didn’t like it.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, and he blinked and forced a smile.
“Yes, this looks marvelous,” he enthused, stabbing his fork into a mushroom with more force than was necessary. Some stupid, irrational part of him wondered what she would have created for him if he hadn’t ranted at her yesterday and felt bereft that he would never know the answer.
The food was amazing as always, and he savored every bite, watching her while she bustled around and cleaned the room. She looked fresh and lovely this morning. Not at all like a woman who’d only gotten about four hours’ sleep and had spent most of the previous night thrusting away on top of him.
The memory of her riding his cock so damned beautifully made his throat dry, and the appendage in question hardened painfully. She had her back to him and her hands in soapy water. Sam got up and stalked toward her until he was directly behind her, his crotch just above her tight, round butt. His left hand went to her hip and pulled her firmly back against him.
“What time are we leaving?” he asked, bringing his mouth to her ear.
“We c-can leave anytime we like. It’s just the animal shelter today.”
“I want to fuck you,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Right here. Right now.”
“Ye-es.” The word trembled out of her mouth on a soft sigh and he nipped her earlobe before dragging the skirt of her dress up over her thighs and then over her peachy little bum. He groaned when he caught sight of the plain white panties. His hand roughly yanked the soft cotton garment down her thighs, leaving her lush, already damp nudity completely revealed to his gaze.
“Move to the island,” he commanded hoarsely, and she obeyed without question. The movement lacked grace, but they both stumbled from the sink to the island, Sam steering her with his hand. When they reached their destination, he placed the flat of his hand gently between her shoulder blades and guided her down, until she was leaning over the island, her cheek resting on the back of one hand while the other curled over the front edge of the countertop.
She didn’t say a word, merely waited, and he sucked in a breath at the picture she made. Prim, perfect Lia McGregor bent over the kitchen counter, dress hiked up, legs spread, and panties pooled around one ankle, ready and waiting for his cock.
Sam groaned, unable to go another second without being inside her. He was wearing track pants with an elasticized waist, and he shoved them down to his hips without any problem. He’d had the forethought to put a condom in his pocket that morning, and he didn’t know how the hell he did it, but he managed to get the thing on without her help.
He gripped his shaft and positioned himself at her sweet, hot little entrance before dropping his hand to her hip and pushing. She was ready for him, dripping for him, despite the lack of foreplay, and he moaned as all that tight hotness closed around him. She whimpered once he was fully sheathed, and the helpless little sound drove Sam quite mad with desire. He dragged himself out without much finesse before surging back in with a hard, almost violent thrust. Another little whimper from her, and he cursed.