“Oh my God, yes,” she said, grabbing a jar of sundried tomatoes and cradling it against her chest before reaching for a box of whole wheat pasta.
“You know, if I could think with something other than my dick when I?
?m around you, I would have thought to raid Dare’s pantry before we left for the cottage.”
“Do you want to go back there?” He seemed a little uncomfortable, and she wasn’t sure why.
“No, I want you to eat so you can start thinking with something other than your stomach.”
“Like what? With my vagina?” She grinned and reached for a can of crushed tomatoes.
“Now you’re thinking like I’m thinking.”
“You have a vagina?”
“No, I just think about it a lot and am hoping you’ll share.”
She laughed and handed him several containers of dried herbs and spices. She noticed a jar near the back of the shelf and pulled it out. “Artichoke hearts. Oh God, yes!” She rolled her eyes in exaggerated bliss.
“Maybe I like you thinking with your stomach after all,” he said, his arm snaking around her waist and his mouth seeking hers.
Her body awoke with instant need. Her grip slackened on the artichokes, and she almost dropped them before coming to her senses enough to realize what she was doing. She pulled away from him and looked up into his gorgeous face. He burned for her. She could see it there in his smoldering dark eyes. And she’d wanted to cook?
“Hold that thought,” she said, setting her jars and cans down on a nearby shelf. She took the spices he held between splayed fingers and returned them to the shelf as well.
“I thought you were hungry.”
She slid the walk-in-pantry door closed, enveloping them in darkness except for a thin ribbon of light shining under the door. “Turns out I’m thinking with my vagina right now, specifically about sharing it with you.”
She reached up, seeking his face in the darkness, and cupped his jaw, using touch to guide her mouth to his. When their lips met, he sucked in a deep breath through his nose and began fumbling with what few clothes they were wearing. She kissed him hungrily as he stripped them naked, not even relenting when he turned her so that her back was pressed against the only available wall space next to the pocket door. She cringed as she bumped the back of her skull and jerked her head to the side when their teeth smashed together. He grabbed her ass and shifted her higher up the wall.
“Help me find you.” His lips caressed a tender spot just beneath her ear.
Trusting him not to drop her, she reached between her splayed legs and found his heated skin. Her fingers glided down the ridges of his belly, seeking the treasure she wanted buried inside her. She found his shaft and circled it with her hand, rubbing the head against her clit and the wetness of her opening. His body quaked as he waited for her to press him inside her, and his breaths came in hot excited bursts against her neck.
As she rubbed his tip into her opening, he shifted her hips forward slightly and pressed up into her. Oh yes, that was what she wanted. She pulled her hand from between their bodies, and he stepped closer, thrusting deep. Holding her securely in both hands, he pulled her away from the wall, and she clung to his shoulders, her heart hammering wildly as she feared she’d fall. He shifted her upward and pressed her against the wall again, settling her into a more comfortable position.
“I won’t drop you,” he promised.
“Sorry.” She loosened her grip on his shoulders.
“I am going to fuck you, though.”
He pounded into her hard and fast. Excitement spread between them, driving her toward a peak that in the past she never would have expected to reach. But something had changed within her. The more she trusted Steve—the more she opened her heart to him and the more comfortable she became with him—the easier it was to reach orgasm. So she held nothing back—didn’t worry about what he thought of her flaws, didn’t care if she was making too much noise or not enough, didn’t wonder if it felt good for him. She knew it did. And as always, he delivered.
She cried out, her body straining toward him, as she found release. An instant later, he stiffened, breath catching in his throat.
“Damn,” he muttered. After a few more strokes, he held himself deep within her and quaked as he climaxed. He held her pinned between his body and the wall as he caught his breath. The gentle kisses he pressed to her neck made her strangely misty-eyed as she toyed with the stray hairs at his nape that had escaped his man bun.
“One of these days I’ll be able to hold back when that sweet pussy of yours tightens around me. When you come, it’s like oh my God, that feels fucking amazing.” He shuddered. “I have no choice but to come with you.”
She grinned and kissed his jaw. “I don’t want you to hold back.”
“That’s good, because I don’t think it’s an option when it comes to you. And I’m not just talking about sex.”
She hugged him close, feeling the exact same way, but cursing fate. Why did she have to fall for him now? It was the worst possible timing.
They were both quiet as she prepped the meal. He sat at the enormous kitchen island, which was about twice as big as Roux’s bathroom back home, and he watched her with a soft smile on his lips and in his eyes. She made enough pasta primavera for four, and asked Jordan and Lee if they wanted to join them. Both members of their aircrew were fairly drunk and more than a little loud. Roux did her best to hide her unease. She couldn’t stop herself from fiddling with the bullet on her bracelet, however.
Steve took her hand under the dinner table—always perceptive, always kind and steadying and empathetic. Was this really the same man that had mistaken her for a hooker at their first meeting?
“I don’t think I’ve eaten anything but pretzels today.” Lee lifted his plate to his face and inhaled. “This looks a bit too healthy.”
“It won’t kill you,” Jordan said. “You could stand to consume a vegetable on occasion.”
“I don’t know. My system might go into shock.”
Roux smiled, her unease fading as she recognized neither of their dinner companions were angry drunks. Unbalanced drunks? Definitely. But not threatening. She squeezed Steve’s hand appreciatively and released it before picking up her fork. She was pleased that her first bite was delicious. She was even more pleased when Lee asked for seconds several minutes later.
“If anyone is getting seconds, it’s me,” Steve said. “I’m the one who was smart enough to bring her here.”
“You wouldn’t have even made it here if it wasn’t for me,” Lee insisted.
Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. “I can easily fly that plane without you.”
“Aw, man.”
“Roux should get any leftovers,” Steve said.
“I’m full,” she said, polishing off her final bite. “There isn’t much left anyway.” Perhaps she should have made more.
Both men rose, plates in hand, and made a mad dash for the stove. There was a bit of a scuffle, but as Steve was bigger and not unsteadily drunk, he ended up the victor.
“There’s a bit of sauce left,” he told Lee as he headed back to the counter with the remains of the pasta on his plate. “You could lick it clean.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Lee said. He lifted the pan to his face and cleaned it with wide sweeps of his tongue.
“I’d like to blame that behavior on his drinking, but he’s always a slob,” Jordan said, crinkling her nose.
Roux laughed. “I’m happy he likes it so much.”
“You know what would have really taken this dish to the next level?” Lee asked. “Meatballs.”
“I thought it was perfect without them,” Steve said, and he smiled at Roux.
Roux’s need to touch him undeniable, she pressed her elbow against his. His arm slid behind her back and urged her to lean into his side as he shoveled in his last few bites of pasta.
“Lee will do the dishes,” Jordan said, hiding a knowing grin with a ducked chin.
He set the pan down on the stove with a loud clank. “Aw, man.”
“Have you shown Roux the view from the second floor?” Jordan asked, nodding toward the staircase between the open kitchen and great room.
“We haven’t
made it that far yet,” Steve said, sliding his plate toward the center of the kitchen island. “Are you ready to go upstairs?” he asked Roux.
“Can I have a bath?”
“You can have whatever you desire.”
She slid off her stool and took his hand, tugging him along behind her. “Then you’ll have to come with me.”
*~*~*
The view from the bathtub was breathtaking. A bright moon lit the night sky, reflecting off the dark ocean water and casting a surreal glow over the lengthy beach. But Roux didn’t waste much time staring out the floor-to-ceiling window, because the view in the bathtub was far superior. Bathwater hid everything below Steve’s sculpted chest, but he’d let his hair down from the bun he’d sported all day, and the way it moved across his shoulders was utterly distracting. Not quite as distracting as the way his large, strong hands looked massaging her foot. She’d always thought of her feet as big and bony, but nestled between his palms, her foot looked delicate and feminine, and pale in contrast to his bronze skin. She did envy his skin tone. His thumbs rubbed the pad under her big toe in hypnotic circles, and she moaned in bliss. She’d expected something different when he’d climbed into the tub with her, but now she could say she’d never been gladder to have feet.
His dark eyes held hers as his hands worked toward her ankle. Shifting closer, he lifted her foot higher out of the warm water and nipped the pad of her big toe. She gasped as a thrill of excitement shot up her leg and ignited a primal passion within her. Mesmerized, she watched him nibble and suck her toes, wondering why that felt so good and looked so sensual. They were just toes, for heaven’s sake.
His thumbs switched to massaging her instep in delightful arcs. She relaxed into the steamy water, her eyes drifting closed.
“I’m starting to think you have a foot fetish,” she murmured dreamily.
“I have only one fetish,” he said.
Her eyes flicked open.
“You,” he said.
“I don’t think I can be a fetish.”
“A fetish is an obsession necessary for sexual gratification,” he said, grinning. “That sounds right. I definitely have a Roux fetish.”