“I do. You know I do.” She speared a carrot with her fork. “Very much.”
He
watched, far too interested in her teeth, her lips, and how much she seemed to enjoy nibbling the tip of her carrot.
She couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “Did you eat?” she asked.
“Yes,” he snapped.
She laughed. “Sit with me?”
He frowned. “I should get things packed up for tomorrow.”
She shrugged. “Tell me. Do you take your book of bedtime stories with you to your fancy lab?”
He wouldn’t take the bait. Whether it was published as fiction or not, he’d learned some of it was useful. Maybe the authors had passed stories down through the generations. Maybe they’d had encounters and lived to share bits and pieces. Whatever the reason, he found value in the massive collection of myths and parables. “I have another copy there.”
She paused, mid-chew. “You have another copy?”
“I have an extensive library at the lab. I understand that proven fact and legend or myth often have the same origins. It’s sifting between the details, understanding the symbolism and metaphors and nuances of ages past.” He headed into the kitchen, pulled a cup from the cabinet, and poured himself some cold water. “Your magic, I guess.”
She was up, pressed against his side, scraping her dish into the sink and rinsing the remaining crumbs into the garbage disposal.
He froze.
She pushed between him and the counter, pulling open the dishwasher and bending to load her plate. Her ass, a perfect curve, pressed against his rapidly shrinking pants. As if her scent wasn’t intoxicating enough. Or the brush of her silken hair beneath his chin. His hands wanted to explore every curve and dip of her body. He wanted to know her taste, drown in her scent, and bury himself deep inside of her.
“Hollis?” she asked, staring up at him.
He blinked, unable to breathe. Breathing only flooded his senses with her.
“I asked if you were done with your glass?” She was the picture of innocence—minus the flare of hunger in her eyes. And the far too satisfied smile on her lips. He couldn’t look away from her lips.
He stepped forward to put his glass on the countertop, but she wedged herself between him and the counter. He could step back, give her space. Give him space. But she was testing him. If she thought he was going to back down, she was wrong.
He gripped the marble counter on either side of her, pinning her there—warm and soft against him. Big mistake. Every inch of him hardened with craving. “No. I’m not done with my glass,” he ground out the words.
“More water?” She reached behind her, the action pulling her tank top tight against the full swell of her breast. No bra. Only thin cotton. The tip jutted up, tight. For him.
“No,” he snapped. He didn’t want water and she knew it. There was no missing the throb of his erection pressed against her belly.
“No?” she repeated. “Then you don’t need your glass?” Her bravado slipped when her gaze fell to his mouth.
“Dammit.” He growled, his lips descending on hers before he could stop himself.
Her lips parted instantly beneath his, stealing his breath and making him sway into her. How she managed to shift onto the counter he didn’t know. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging fiercely. He wasn’t sure who was kissing who, but her tongue stroked his and he no longer cared.
This was all he wanted.
Her teeth nipped his lower lip, driving him on. Her breast overflowed his hand. Soft, so soft. With a brush of his thumb, she arched into him, grinding herself against him. One hand gripped her hip. The other savored her breast. His mouth along her neck, the rake of his teeth along her skin making her shudder. He wanted this, wanted her.
A growl snapped him out of it. He’d growled.
He released her and stepped back, panting. What the hell was that about? Heat singed his skin, turning it thin and brittle. The hair covering his body stood straight up. The veins in his temple thrummed. The urge to touch her made his palms and fingers tingle. Everything felt off. He took another step back.
“Damn you.” Her voice was gruff. Hands propped on the counter behind her, she stared up at the wooden beam overhead, her breasts shuddering and shaking in time with her ragged breathing.
Hollis stared, watching every move. She was hypnotizing.