I settled into a chair, watching him finish up. It wasn’t easy to keep my hands to myself, when what I really wanted to do was join him at the stove, loop my arms around his waist and rest my cheek against the warm skin on his back. Then I’d slip my hands around to his front, unzip his jeans, spin him around to face me and beg him to take me right there on the counter. Who needed breakfast, anyway? I knew I’d be able to satisfy his hunger in other ways.
In fact, I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the weekend getting to know him better—in every possible way. And on every possible surface of our home.
Instead, I watched him carry our plates to the table and settle down in the chair beside me. There was a pile of crisp bacon, fried eggs, perfectly cooked crepes stuffed with strawberries and topped with whipped cream, and orange juice that might have been fresh squeezed.
“This all looks amazing,” I said, in awe at his efforts. “Thank you.”
“You are so welcome,” he said.
But even as we began to eat, I was still having a hard time believing that this was all actually happening and even though I knew it was stupid, I surreptitiously pinched myself. But apparently not surreptitiously enough, because before I knew it, Stefan was laughing.
“Are you seriously pinching yourself?” he asked. “Don’t you know that’s my job?”
I laughed along with him and let him pull me into his lap, where he dropped kisses down my neck as his pinched my sides, my hips, and my ass.
“Stop tickling me!” I panted between giggles, squirming in his arms.
He pulled his hands back, kissing me on the tip of my nose. “I couldn’t help myself. Please forgive me.”
“Apology accepted,” I said, finally sliding back into my own chair. I was still laughing a little as he picked up a piece of bacon and fed me a bite.
“Crispy enough for you?” he asked.
I nodded. “It’s perfect.” I had no idea he had ever paid such close attention to my breakfast choices, but clearly he had. I wouldn’t eat bacon any other way.
After that, he insisted on feeding me a few more bites of it, his eyes glazing with lust as I made sure to moan my satisfaction.
I loved it. I loved having his hands all over me, having him play with me. Touching, teasing, feeding me. How was I ever going to get through breakfast without tossing my napkin down and sliding under the table to show him exactly how glad I was to be married to him?
“Since when did you learn to cook like this?” I asked, pointing at the golden-brown pile of tightly rolled crepes. They were light, buttery, and the slightest bit crispy. “Crepes are hard.”
“You’ll find I have many hidden talents,” he said, winking at me.
“I have no doubt,” I said, flirting back. “I can’t wait to discover the rest of them.”
I dragged my tongue down the curve of my spoon as I said that, enjoying the way his eyes followed the movement.
“I have a few ideas of what you could do with that tongue of yours,” he said.
I went hot, a flush spreading over my skin as his eyes seemed to burn through my robe.
This was exactly the fun, sexy flirtatious Stefan I had hoped for on my honeymoon. Months later, we finally seemed to have the kind of marriage we both had secretly craved.
“You’re playing with fire, kitty cat,” Stefan warned as I picked up a ripe, red strawberry from the bowl of fruit and popped it in my mouth.
“I think you like it when I play with fire,” I teased him.
His eyes were burning with intense heat as he picked up another strawberry and held it in front of my mouth. I parted my lips and he placed it on my tongue. Closing my mouth around his finger, I made sure to drag my tongue along it as he slowly withdrew his hand.
“You’re good at that,” Stefan said, his voice thick with lust.
“I’m learning,” I told him, smirking.
I wanted to make him break. Wanted to make him push his chair back and pull me into his arms. Wanted him to carry me back to the bedroom where he would rip off my robe and feast on me the same way we were feasting on this breakfast.
Somehow, we made it through the rest of our meal without tearing each other’s clothes off.
The moment he pushed his plate away, however, I was more than ready to take our little back and forth flirtation to the bedroom. Looping my arms around his neck, I crawled onto his lap, enjoying the feel of his hot, bare skin against my hands, my robe gaping open as I straddled him. As we kissed I could feel his desire, hard and throbbing behind the seam of his jeans, and I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath.
