Wrapped in Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 4)

She must catch sight of me from the corner of her eye, because she startles and turns from her pan. “Oh, hey! I thought you had a meeting with an investor this morning.”

I tuck my hands into my pockets. She switches off the stove and slides her eggs onto a plate. “It was canceled. Cute outfit.”

She snorts. “My dress is in the dryer. I’m not planning on going to the banquet center like this. I promise.”

“That’s a shame.”

She throws me a grin over her shoulder, completely unselfconscious about her clothes. Or lack thereof. “Want to have breakfast with me? I actually had my shit together this morning and ran on the treadmill right after dropping Noah at school. Now I can enjoy the rest of my morning instead of wasting it dreading exercise.”

I laugh. “The guys asked after you at the gym.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I’ll come back after I get a full night’s sleep.”

I smirk. “I have no intention of letting that happen anytime soon.”

She blushes. “Are you hungry?”

So hungry, but not for breakfast. “I already ate.” I stalk toward her. I’ve watched long enough. Now I want to touch.

She braces her hands on the counter, her back to me as she watches the toaster. When I come up behind her, she stills and closes her eyes. I stop before our bodies touch, but I’m close enough that the smell of her strawberry shampoo fills my nose.

“I was hoping you’d be home,” I admit, my voice rough as my hands drift to rest on her hips, on the satin strips of fabric over each one. “Noah’s at school?”

She arches into me in invitation. “Yes.”

“I threw the bolt on the front door in case we get any unexpected visitors.” Sweeping her wet hair to the side, I press a kiss to the crook of her neck. She shivers as my fingertips skim her bare hips then circle around to sneak under her T-shirt and over her navel. Her eyes float closed, and she leans her head back against my shoulder, submitting to my touch and asking for more. “Too bad I didn’t make it home sooner,” I whisper into her ear. I inch my hands up and cup her breasts, growling in the back of my throat when I realize she’s not wearing a bra. Her nipples are hard, and I roll them under my palms. “I think I’d have enjoyed meeting you in the shower.”

She hums in approval, then circles her hips and rubs her ass against my cock. “What on earth would you have done with me in the shower?”

“Should I demonstrate?” I drop to my knees behind her and nip at the rounded cheek of her ass. She hisses out a curse, and I cup her between her legs, slipping forward to stroke her clit as I mark a path across her backside, nibbling and sucking across her lower back and over each hip.

Gasping, she rocks into my hand and grips the counter. “Brayden . . .”

She whimpers as I withdraw my hand, but wiggles to help me when I peel her panties down her legs. I grip her hips and pull her back, bending her at the hips to give my mouth better access to her sweet center. I dart out my tongue and stroke her. I revel in her gasps, the way she shifts into my mouth, unashamed to let me please her.

I love the taste of her. The sounds she makes. The feel of her skin under my roaming hands. I keep one hand on her clit and slide the other up her shirt again, rolling her nipple between two fingers until she cries out, arching her back and giving my mouth a better angle.

“Please,” she gasps. “Brayden, please.” She reaches behind her and tugs on my hair to pull me up.

I’m mindless as I obey her command. Standing, I unbuckle my jeans and shove them down my hips with my boxers. I grip her hips and drive into her, watching the way her arms brace against the counter and her back arches, listening to the desperate noises slipping from her throat.

When she looks over her shoulder, her blue eyes blaze as they meet mine, and pleasure is written all over her face. I wrap my arm around her waist to stroke her, and she clenches so tightly around my cock that I could come apart right there. I slow my thrusts, teasing her by nearly pulling out before driving deep again.

Her knuckles whiten where she grips the counter, and I draw tiny circles across her clit until she bucks in unbridled pleasure, crying out as her release rips through her. She reaches behind my neck and leans against me as I come.

Afterward, I run kisses down her neck and across her shoulder blades. We’re half-dressed in the middle of my kitchen, and my chest is tight with tenderness I know she doesn’t want to see, and my heart is clogged with words I know she doesn’t want to hear.