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“I was thinking pizza,” he said. “And while you might win points for creativity, my idea gets us both fed while you tell me about your day.”
“My day?” She raised an eyebrow. “I spent the last hour sitting at the table you made wondering if you’d ever thought about bending me over it and binding my ankles to the table legs.”
His imagination followed her words, summoning the image. His body hardened, sending one message to his brain: I want that.
“Kat—”
“Once you had me there, I wonder where you’d put the whip cream.”
Heat, need, desire roared through him. He stepped closer, pressing her back against the door. “I swear there is something about you that is so goddamn irresistible.”
“My mouth?”
“That’s part of it.”
His hands found hers. Fingers interlaced, he drew her arms up, pinning them against the solid wood door. He didn’t give a damn who saw, he had to touch her, taste her. His lips brushed hers, stealing a kiss.
“You taste like sugar and whiskey,” he murmured.
“Bourbon,” she corrected. “I’ve been baking pies with Josh.”
“Are you done with my brother?”
She nodded. “Megan arrived for a visit. They took his creation and escaped into the barn.”
“If Josh ran off with the pie, how are we going to eat the whip cream?”
“I have a few ideas.”
“As much as I’d like to hear them all . . .” He released her hands, forcing himself to step back and stick to his plan. “I need a shower. And then I’m taking you out for pizza.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You don’t need to woo me with food when I’ve offered whip cream sex.”
“I’m not wooing.” He headed for the main stairs leading to the farmhouse’s second story. “Tonight ends with pizza.”
“If you say so.” Her laughter followed him up the stairs.
He’d stand by those words. But he had a feeling she wouldn’t make it easy. Stepping under the water, he closed his eyes and gave his imagination free rein.
Kat bent over the kitchen table . . . Or better still, here with him in the shower. Little Miss Perfect’s back pressed against the tile wall, her legs wrapped around him while he drove into her.
He wrapped his hand around his dick. If he wanted release, he’d have it here. His fist moved up and down, drawing him closer and closer with each stroke.
The way her hands looked pinned overhead. Her mouth. Her voice. . .
Every word that escaped between those full lips excited him, from the naughty, teasing ones to the words that offered an insight into who she was past and present.
He pushed aside the image of her mouth and focused on how she’d looked in his bed. Picturing it here, under the steaming hot spray of water, was as close as he could get. Once he stepped out of this shower, he needed to focus on what was best for the people he cared about. The family who needed his time and focus. And he was pretty damn sure that taking Dr. Katherine Arnold, the doctor who lived on the other side of the country, to his bed was not on that list.
FORTY MINUTES LATER, after Brody had cleaned up, checked in with his little brother via text—he knew better than to interrupt “pie time” in the apartment over the barn—and confirmed that Megan would be staying off the clock awhile, he snagged the last parking space in the lot behind A Slice of Independence.
“This place is packed,” Kat said. “We might want to think about taking our pie to go. My hotel is not far from here.”
“Tables turn over quickly.” He took her hand and led her toward the screen door separating the picnic tables from the indoor seating area. “We’ll place our order at the counter. And while we wait for a table to open up, you can tell me about Josh’s first session.”
She nodded, transforming from I-want-whip-cream-sex Kat to Dr. Katherine Arnold. “Your brother managed a Bourbon Pecan Pie today.”
He listened to the details, making mental notes of the little signs she thought spelled progress as they waited in line. When they reached the counter, he ordered the daily special, a pizza topped with local sausage.
