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“My ex-wife had a friend who did it.”
Damn it! He’d not wanted to bring her into this conversation.
Her brow furrowed and she poked her tongue out of the left corner of her mouth while she focused on the pot before her. Mitchell moved up to the stove and propped his hip against the counter, eyes on Hope. He wanted to know what she was thinking. Despite his desire not to, his mind skated down the road of having to buy something shiny when a woman got upset and the whole give-them-whatever-they-wanted to ease the slight. It didn’t make sense and Hope didn’t strike him as one who did that, but his scars ran deep.
“So, not a basketball thing then?” She flicked her tongue over her lips.
“Not for me,” he admitted, noticing how the milk began turning a dark, creamy brown. She never stopped stirring it, her moves calm and easy, like she’d done this numerous times before.
“What did you do? Do you do? Do do?” She snorted and shook her head. “Is there a thing you have that you do?”
The spoon clunked against the side of the pan when she dropped it to cover her face. Mitchell bit back his laughter, both amused as heck and thrilled she’d moved on instead of dwelling on him mentioning another woman.
“Oh my God. I can’t talk. You know what, I’m going to stand here and stir. Perhaps I can do that without sounding like I need help.”
When she picked the spoon up once more, he watched as she put her left foot on the floor as well. Only then did he move closer, dipping his head to brush his lips along the curve of her exposed shoulder, relishing one hundred percent in the tremble that she couldn’t hide.
“Meditation is my thing.”
As expected, she looked up at him with a shocked expression. “Really?”
“Really.” He brushed his hand along the small of her back as he moved the mugs closer. “Is it ready?”
Her response was to hold a spoonful up for him to sample. “You tell me.”
After blowing on it, he took a sip. Perfection. There was something else in it he couldn’t identify. What had she added? Hell, he’d been here the whole time and couldn’t recall her putting anything else in. Sure, he may have been a bit distracted, but still.
Mitchell nodded even as he said, “Oh yeah. Let’s drink this.”
He held the mugs while she poured some into each. It hadn’t taken him much time to build up the fire on the stove and he made sure to bank it so it would fire up quickly in the morning. Then he picked up both mugs and carried them over to the counter with the stools, pleased that she slid onto the one beside him instead of across from him.
Mitchell sat after she did, noticing the small, pleasured curl of her lips as she curved her hands around the warm mug and put it below her nose for a deep inhale. The resulting groan was nearly his undoing.
“Tell me more about meditation and why that’s your thing.”
She angled her head to look at him in the low glow of light and his heart skipped. More than once. Innocent seduction was what this woman was. If she knew how much she turned him on, she didn’t act like she cared. Her hair tumbled around the softness of her features, and he longed to cup her face, pull her in for a kiss, but he stayed put and watched her. Her plump full lips were driving him to distraction, especially as he knew how they felt beneath his.
Perfection.
Two hours later, they finished washing up their mugs in the cool dishwater and left them overturned on a clean towel. Mitchell stayed beside her as they tiptoed up to their room, trying to make as little noise as possible.
They were good until they hit their floor and walked past a room with the bedframe squeaking. He heard her snort of laughter before he settled his hand against her and nudged her along to their room. He didn’t know whose room it was nor did he care. He wanted Hope in their bed.
Tension simmered between them as he closed the door behind them. Hope brushed her hands down her thighs and gave him a wobbly smile.
“I’ll be out in a moment.”
Mitchell leaned against the door as she swiped up the clothing she slept in. Yep, his. She paused at the doorway to the bathroom and he forced himself to stay where he was. The lure to follow her was much like the Sirens calling the sailors, and he should be tied up or have something over his eyes so he couldn’t see her. Sure, it was their voices but for him with this woman, it was everything. Everyfuckingthing.
He went to the fire and added another log so it wouldn’t die out overnight. The room wasn’t hot by any stretch, but he didn’t give a damn. Right now, they were about to crawl under the blankets and would be fine. Personally, he was all sorts of happy to keep her warm. It would be no hardship to cuddle up to her body and hold her tight.
