Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate 3)

Connor rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” Gripping my hand firmly in his, Connor pulls me to his station. “So, to what do I owe this wonderful surprise visit?”

Once we’re out of sight, Connor drops to a chair and tugs me onto his lap. Large, warm hands find their way up the back of my shirt, and for the life of me I can’t remember what he just asked me. “What?” He continues trailing his fingertips across my skin and my eyes nearly roll back in my head.

“I asked what brought you by,” he says, nuzzling the side of my neck.

“Oh, yeah…I was in the area. I need to go by the Chef’s Nook down the street, so I figured I’d drop by.”

Connor’s deft fingers travel around my waist, stroking my stomach, and a shiver races up my spine. “What do you need from that place?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the way he’s torturing me.

My body is thrumming with sexual energy, and if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to beg him to fuck me right here in this chair. “You have to stop touching me,” I demand, earning myself a bright, white smile from Connor.

“Sorry, I can’t do that. Now tell me what you’re getting at the Chef’s Nook.”

“A pan for lasagna.”

Connor’s hands stop. “You’re making me lasagna?”

“Is that okay?” I ask, suddenly unsure of my supper choice. He did tell me that was his favorite food, right? Shit. Maybe I was so damn horny I didn’t hear him correctly.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good. I realized when I got home that I don’t have the right-sized pan. It might still be in storage, but there’s no way in hell I’m digging through that mess so I’ll just buy a new one.”

“Don’t.” Connor shakes his head. “I’ve got every size pan you can imagine in my kitchen. Just go borrow what you need. Hell, make dinner at my place if you want. In fact,” he says, waggling his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t complain one bit if I came home and you were wearing nothing but an apron. That would actually be really fucking awesome.”

“Is sex all you think about?” I ask with mock annoyance.

“No,” he says, pressing his lips to the base of my neck. The scruff on his jaw abrades my skin, and I squeeze my thighs together in a desperate attempt to control my ever-growing need. “All I think about is you.”

My body shudders at his words. Damn he’s good. “I like that,” I say, cupping his face in my hands. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

A deep growl rumbles from Connor’s chest. “You can’t say those things to me when I’m at work because it makes me want to lay you flat on that table,” h

e says, motioning toward the tiny table with supplies scattered on the surface. “And I cannot lay you flat on that table.” He pauses and glances at said tiny table. “Well, I could, but we’d end up flat on our asses.”

I push up from Connor’s lap. “Tonight you can lay me on any surface you want. How about that?” I whisper, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Fuuuuuck,” he says, reaching for my arm.

Laughing, I sidestep his grabby hand. He attempts to glare at me, but it lacks the necessary edge and I end up laughing harder. “Later, I promise. Now are you sure you don’t mind if I borrow a pan?”

“Fine.” He sighs, reminding me of a petulant child. Normally, I would find that annoying, but when Connor does it, I find it cute. “And you’re more than welcome to borrow it.” Connor stands up and leads me out of his workstation toward the front door. “You can go in through the garage. My code is 9080.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re making me lasagna. Trust me, I should be the one thanking you. Oh! By the way”—he snaps his fingers—“is it okay if Logan joins us for dinner tonight?”

“Absolutely. I’d love to meet your best friend.” Lifting up on my tiptoes, I brush my mouth against Connor’s ear. “Just make sure Logan is gone by dessert. I’ve got a can of whipped cream I was planning to bring over.”

“Leave. Now.” I bust up laughing when Connor all but shoves me out the front door. He immediately yanks me back in and gives me a searing kiss that earns us several catcalls from the guys in the shop, and then he shoves me back out again. “Now go.”

“Goodbye, Connor.” I walk out of InkSlingers, and my body feels as though I’m floating down the sidewalk. My heart is full, my soul is happy, and I’m afraid this goofy-ass smile will be permanently etched on my face.

Holy shit, I’m in love.

“This smells fantastic.” Keeping his hands on the hot rags, Connor takes the steaming dish from my hands.

“I slaved all day over a hot stove for you,” I say jokingly as I follow him into the kitchen. “So now what are you going to do for me?”