Page 126 of Unmanageable

I don’t say anything. I reach around her, my large hand covering her small fingers on the handle of the knife. I take it out of her grip and set it down on the far side of the marble board.

Then, I take her by the hips and turn her around to face me.

Her green eyes are wide, dark with the same sudden heat that’s currently humming in my ears. Her hands come up to rest against my chest, her fingers digging into the cotton of my shirt.

I reach down, catch her under the thighs, and lift her straight up onto the cold marble countertop. She lets out a small gasp as the stone meets her through her jeans. Her back comes against the raised counter behind her, leaving her perched securely on the broad surface.

I step right into the space between her knees, my broad chest close to hers as my hands settle at her waist.

“Cash, the food,” she murmurs, her head tilting back against the high kitchen wall as my hands move to her waist. “The stove is…”

“The stove is off, Scottie.”

I slide my fingers under the waistband of her jeans, my thumbs hooking into the denim as I drag the metal zipper down. She gives a small, helpless jerk against the stone as I work the jeans completely free of her legs, leaving them crumpled on the floor beneath the island.

I stay right there, my hands resting on her bare hips, my thumbs tracing the line of her hip bones.

“You’re very quiet today, Sharky,” I murmur, leaning down so my breath brushes her ear. “No lectures on the itinerary? No schedules?”

Scottie swallows hard, her fingers instantly tangling deep into my hair, trying to pull my head up. “Cash, please. Don’t tease me. Don’t do this right now, I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” I whisper against her jaw, my lips dragging down to her throat. “Can’t focus? You looked very focused with the tomatoes.”

“You are horrible.”

I press my mouth to hers, tasting the faint trace of salt and sweetness. She whimpers into my mouth, her hips moving instinctively against mine, seeking the heat.

When I drop to my knees between her feet, she lets out a shaky breath, her hands leaving my hair to grip the edge of the marble island.

The first touch makes her back leave the counter entirely, her breath hitching into a high, broken sound. I keep my hands steady on her thighs, holding her still against the cold marble, letting the heat build between us.

“Oh god,” she gasps. “Cash, you’re—you’re doing that on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“Being slow,” she cries out, her voice fraying. “Please. Just—please.”

I stay down there, my jaw aching, driving her higher and higher until her thighs are shaking violently against my shoulders.

She’s hiding her face in her hands now, her head shaking against the marble, her entire body locking into a tight wire before she breaks, her breath coming in gasps.

I stand up immediately, my own breath coming in hard lunges. I yank my belt free, pushing my jeans down just enough, my large body casting a shadow over her flushed face.

I catch her by the waist, lifting her slightly off the stone. I press against her first, waiting until she opens up for me. Then, slowly, I push into her.

Scottie lets out a choked, breathless sound, her eyes flying open, locked on mine. Her legs come up around me, her ankles locking behind my back to pull me deeper. The rhythm is unhurried but completely consuming, each push slow and deep, filling her until she’s gasping for air.

“See?” I rumble, my voice thick as I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers. “Still on schedule.”

She lets out a breathless, wet laugh, her hands clawing at my shoulders. “Shut up. Cash, shut up and—”

“And what, Scottie?” I taunt, pulling back until I’m almost out of her before thrusting all the way back in, making her hips lift off the counter. “Tell me what the agency protocol is for this.”

“I hate you,” she whispers, but she’s pulling me closer, her fingers digging into my back, leaving red streaks down my skin. “I hate you so much right now.”

The bottle of olive oil we’d left near the edge tips over with a clunk. A splash catches her bare stomach before the rest runs across the white stone in a widening pool, but neither of us looks at it.

“Cash,” she gasps. “Please, no more talk—”