Page 17 of Secret Sins

I repeated the name Storm Cove in my head a few times so I would remember to Google it later. If he was going to drop pieces of his life in my lap so casually, I was damn sure going to fit them into the whole. "What do you enjoy?"

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Not, what do I enjoy reading? Is that meant as an innuendo?"

"If you want it to be." Grinning at the turn of events, I inched closer. "What do you like to eat, to watch, to read? What do you like in a woman? A friend?" I added quickly.

"I'm currently on a seafood strike." Walking backward, he picked up another book and studied the cover.

"I don't blame you."

"The fresh vegetables from Of the Ocean are great."

"Before you moved here, what would you eat for dinner?"

Clouds rolled over his face, obscuring his eyes from me as he looked down at another book. Fuck. "When it was my choice, I guess I ate fast food. Burgers, fries. Sometimes I went to five-star restaurants. I'm not picky."

"As you know, I have a weakness for snickerdoodles." My throat wanted to go dry, but I swallowed past it to keep him talking. "Riley makes fantastic chicken and dumplings."

"The coffee over there at the bakery is next level."

My shoulders relaxed. "Yes, it is."

"I saw Ellie give you some of the ground coffee, but yours doesn't taste the same."

"No, and it's because she has a secret she won't tell me. I think it's cinnamon, but when I try it, I get varying results."

Van circled the shelf to peruse the next aisle. Realizing how late it had gotten, I moved to close and lock the front doors.

"You're locking us in?" he asked in a husky voice.

"Um, yeah."

Christ on a cracker, he looked like he wanted to eat me for dinner. Stalking toward me, Van walked up to the counter, forcing me to back up until I had nowhere else to go. Leaning around me, he set a book on the counter and straightened back up.

"I'd like to read that one."

"Yep, sure." Fuck, woman, pull yourself together. "Uh . . ."

I couldn't get around him to ring him up unless he moved.

Or I touched him all over.

I knew which one I'd choose, but not which one would make him stay and keep talking versus breaking down the doors to flee.

"What is it, Bailey?" With every breath he took, his chest brushed against mine, and I fell further into the pull of his gravity.

"Don't use that croony voice of yours, knowing you've got me all hot and bothered. What's your next move?"

"My move? I thought it was your turn."

Gahh-awd damn. Was that permission to kiss him? To jump and hope he'd catch me, to pedal faster with no brakes? Rising onto my toes, I looked between his eyes and his mouth. A hint of stubble graced his chin, spreading along his jaw to bump into his pulse. Of all the places I wanted that stubble to caress me, I would settle for my lips. For now.

So I eased in slowly, gently, treating him as a newborn colt. If he shied away now, I might just cry, so I balanced my hands on his shoulders and touched my lips to his cheek. His exhale ruffled the hair near my ear, and I shivered. With an open mouth, I tested the boundaries of the man who insisted he was a bad guy, finding the hair on his jaw to be coarse. Van had yet to touch me, and I didn't know where his hands were, exactly. Where I wanted them was a whole different story, but apparently, he couldn't be rushed.

I went in once more, kissing along his jaw to his ear. With each touch, his breathing picked up faster, and I found mine meeting his pace. My trajectory was his earlobe, sucking it into my mouth to hear him groan. Flicking my tongue out, I suppose I was inviting danger by goading him to act. The simple scent of soap reached out to me, the rasp of his labored breathing inviting me further into his fathomless depths.

Finally, he grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me up onto the counter. My legs widened to give him room to stand, and he clasped his hands on either side of my face. For just a moment, just long enough to show me what I'd done to myself, he stared right the fuck into my soul.

And then he dove headfirst, with tongue and teeth and full-on threat. The only sound in my brain was the word yes on repeat, the whisper of a growl coming from Van and reverberating through my bones. Desperately, I shoved at the hem of his t-shirt until I could touch his skin, moaning my satisfaction at finding my prize. If the apocalypse dropped on our heads, I wouldn't fucking know it or care.