“About twenty minutes.”
“I made you a sandwich.”
He’d been skipping lunch. Of course, she would see that he ate. She was just that kind of woman.
Like a dog after a bone, he followed her into the kitchen. His eyes tracked her every move, and his hunger grew by the second, ravenous, but he wasn’t after lunch.
She pushed a plate across the island. The diagonal cut peanut butter and jelly sandwich made him chuckle. She’d even set three carrot sticks on the side. It was the perfect lunch, the kind made with tender loving care that his classmates used to bring to school, while he ate whatever the teachers gave him out of pity.
“Do I get a glass of milk with this?”
She turned to fetch the milk out of the fridge, and he rounded the island. Catching her arm, he pulled her to his chest, his front pressing hard against her back. His hand slipped under her soft sweater and cupped her breast through her bra. She sank her weight into him.
“I want you,” he growled, teasing her nipple into a hard point.
“You have to eat.”
“I’m hungry for you.”
“Rhett…”
“Don’t make me suffer. I waited all morning.”
“Fine.”
Thinking of how greedy he’d been, he delicately slid a hand into the front of her pants and teased her folds. “I want to kiss you here.”
She moaned, her head leaning into his chest as her body softened with consent.
Pushing down the tight, cotton pants, he crouched in front of her, and yanked her to his mouth. Her hands caught his shoulders, holding on for balance as he licked the seam of her slit.
“You always taste amazing.” With her leggings bunched at her knees, she had limited range of motion. Her hips cocked forward and he swiped his tongue deep inside her folds, tasting warm honey.
Her soft moan filled the kitchen and he tenderly worked her into a delicate frenzy. Her body was so responsive, so inviting. As her warm cream coated his tongue and she came, he smiled against her flesh, pressing a kiss to her throbbing clit.
“Beautiful.”
Her eyes were dark and her cheeks flushed when he stood. She was a vision.
He pushed the plate aside and turned her body, pressing her forward, and guiding her hands onto the granite countertop until she rested her cheek on the surface. The clink of his belt buckle mixed with the soft hum of Christmas carols that seemed a constant backdrop since she arrived in their life.
His hand slipped into the waistband of her pants again, and her wet flesh greeted his returning touch. She was always ready for him. He removed a condom from his pocket, and filled her with one determined stroke.
She gasped and rose to her tiptoes, keening with every thrust. His clothes were bulky as he’d not even taken the time to remove his coat, but he couldn’t stop now.
Her body welcomed his. She was a warm place that felt like home—even if he’d never understood what a home should feel like. He believed the warmth in his chest he experienced whenever she looked at him was what people meant. Home.
Her pliant body met his every stroke. He worked his fingers over her sensitive flesh as he approached finishing. When his pleasure mounted, he brought her with him.
Short, sweet, and exactly what he needed. But he wanted more. It wasn’t just the sex he craved. He wanted to talk and hear how her day was going. He wanted to munch on carrot sticks and eat the lovingly prepared sandwich she made him. He wanted to sit around and simply watch her move throughout the house, magically turning every room she entered into a home.
His body folded over hers as he caught her chin and turned her mouth to his, showing her how much he enjoyed their stolen moments together. She was a secret sanctuary for him, a place of warmth and welcome he never wanted to leave.
But he had to.
Slowly, and regretfully, he pulled out and righted her clothing. She should hate him for being so abrupt and demanding, but she never complained.
They righted their clothing, and only then did he greet her properly, kissing her with gentle appreciation and smiling into her eyes. “Hi.”
She grinned up at him.
“Join me for lunch?”
She sat beside him while he ate and told him about her morning. He loved the way her eyes lit up every time she mentioned his daughter. It was only second to the way she would get excited about some crafty idea she planned for the afternoon.
Now that he understood how natural she was with children, he harbored a bit of shame for keeping her all to himself. She should be in a classroom with dozens of kids, sharing all her wonderful skills and care.
But he was selfish and didn’t want to share her. He never lived in a house that played music or hung finger paintings on the fridge. Other than business lunches, he hardly ever ate at a table before she came along.