I’m whipping the cream when I feel him behind me—heat radiating from his body, his presence filling every inch of the space before he even touches me.
Then he does.
Strong, calloused hands settle on my hips, pulling me back into his solid chest. His mouth grazes the curve of my neck, lips warm and teasing as his breath fans across my skin.
“You eavesdropping on me, woman?”
I shiver, barely suppressing a smile. “Maybe.”
His hands slide lower, gripping the tops of my thighs. “And?”
I shrug, dipping my finger into the rich chocolate batter. “You like me.”
His chest vibrates with a deep chuckle. “That a problem?”
I turn in his arms, lifting my chocolate-covered finger to my lips, but before I can taste it, Flint’s hand wraps around my wrist.
His eyes darken. “Not so fast.”
Oh.
Slowly, deliberately, he pulls my hand to his mouth, tongue flicking out to taste the chocolate from my fingertip. His gaze never leaves mine, the sheer dominance in his expression making my knees weak.
“Damn,” he mutters, licking the last of the chocolate away. “That’s good.”
My pulse thrums against my skin. “The mousse or me?”
He smirks. “Both.”
Heat pools low in my belly.
“You keep spoiling me like this, and I’m not letting you leave my sight,” he murmurs, leaning in.
I arch a brow. “Who says I’m leaving?”
That stops him. His jaw tics, his grip tightening on my waist.
“Say it again,” he demands, voice rough.
I trace a finger down the front of his shirt, over the hard ridges of muscle. “I’m not leaving.”
The air shifts, electricity crackling between us.
Then Flint moves.
His hands grip the counter behind me, caging me in as his mouth claims mine—deep, possessive, and scorching hot.
My fingers dig into his chest, a whimper slipping past my lips as he swallows me whole, his body pressing me back against the cool marble.
“Flint,” I gasp when he breaks away, trailing kisses down my neck.
He lifts me onto the counter with effortless strength, spreading my legs so he can step between them. His fingers skimbeneath my shirt, rough palms sliding against my bare skin, making me shiver.
“I’ve been starving for you since the second I met you,” he growls, scraping his teeth against my throat. “And you waltz into my kitchen, making something sweet, looking like sin itself…I could taste you everyday and it wouldn’t be enough.”
I grin, breathless. “Figured you deserved a treat.”
His hands tighten on my hips. “Then let me have a taste.”
