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He keeps one arm around me, and his free hand comes to tip my chin up, forcing me to stare up into those warm, brown eyes.
“Why are you baking? And why are you wearing a robe? Is this seduction?” he asks, the questions coming out at a spitfire rate as his eyes narrow.
I’m not sure why I smile. My smile falls pretty quickly. My emotions are all over the place right now as my heartbeat speeds up, slows down, and fumbles around for the next few beats.
We’ve never had to talk about our non-relationship because it had an expiration date. Now…I’m possibly going to look like a lunatic for deciding to move here on a whim.
“Lilah said you missed me. Is that true?” I ask, my stomach tightening with those nervous knots all over again.
His eyes rake over my face, and his thumb swipes against my cheek. When he pulls back his hand…his thumb has icing on it.
Instead of answering me and putting me out of my misery, he sucks the icing off his thumb, drawing all my attention to his lips.
He’s not even trying to seduce me, which proves how much better at seduction he is. My knees actually tremble a little.
I missed him a lot more than I thought, because I don’t even let him step away when he tries. I keep my arms tightly wound around his waist, and watch as he smirks while lowering his hand from his mouth.
“The icing is good,” he tells me.
“That’s because Betty Crocker made it and not me,” I tell him, the words coming out on autopilot.
His lips waver, as though he’s resisting the urge to change his smirk into a smile…or something like that.
“Did you come back to visit because Lilah said I missed you?” he asks, his gaze flicking to my lips as he abruptly lifts me.
A surprised breath slips out of me as my ass hits the counter, and he grabs both of my thighs, pulling them apart, so he can step between them.
Maybe he is trying to seduce me.
I wish I was prettier. I didn’t expect for the cake batter and icing to be such a mess.
My words catch in my throat when I try to answer, because his head dips abruptly, and suddenly his mouth is on my neck.
“You have icing here too,” he whispers.
I shudder against him, my eyelids fluttering shut as I surrender. If he’s going to lick up all the icing on me…
It probably won’t be as sexy if he gets it out of my eyebrows.
His lips drag against my skin until he reaches the base of my throat, and he gently starts pulling my robe down on my shoulder.
He groans against my skin, his grip tightening.
“Are you fucking naked under this robe?” he asks as though he’s being tortured.
I smile, because I think I’ve almost succeeded in nearly doing something right. If that makes any sense.
Nothing really makes sense at all right now. My head seems to be trapped in a never-ending fog of nerves, excitement, worry, hope, and a lot of apprehension.
“No,” I tell him.
“Doesn’t really matter why you’re here,” he murmurs against my skin, the heat of his breath eliciting chills.
My fingers tighten in his shirt over his chest, and my legs wind around his waist as I pull him closer.
He groans again, and when his head lifts, his lips fuse to mine. There’s a difference between a hungry, desperate kiss and one full of pent-up longing.
I never knew the difference before now, but he doesn’t devour me like he’s starving. He devours me like I’m being rewarded for agonizing over him for over a month.
I kiss him back just the same, my hands moving all over him as though they’re possessed. His hands slide up my back, into my hair, and back down again, as he continues to thoroughly wreck me with just a kiss.
He did miss me.
This also feels different than goodbye. I’m not sure what to call it.
Is it too soon to tell him I’m back because I love him?
Is it too crazy to blurt out that I’m moving into my late Gran’s cabin on a permanent basis so I can jump in with both feet instead of toeing the uncharted water?
Is it too absurd to insinuate myself into his life with any expectations at all?
We had so many miscommunications last time because we avoided talking about anything future related. But we have to talk about the future now.
This is a life-changing situation for me.
Too many questions rattle through my mind as self-doubt tries to creep in, but the nagging thoughts keep getting silenced by the soul-searing kiss.
By the time our mouths break apart, I’m half-dazed and wholly stupid. I find myself leaning forward, but he cups my cheek, eyes on mine.
“How long are you staying?” he asks.
