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Dressed in a button-down flannel and worn jeans, his simple outfit accentuated his broad shoulders and powerful chest. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and the muscles of his forearms popped and flexed as he cooked. She wasn’t quite sure how forearms could be sexy, but they were. Ridiculously so.
She had no doubt that beneath the flannel were hard, chiseled abs that tapered to his strong hips and long, muscular legs.
“Yes?”
She blinked. Her gaze shot up Quinn’s body to his face. A sly smirk played on his lips.
Heat flooded her cheeks. He knew where her mind had been. She busied herself with unloading the wine.
“Um.” She cleared her throat, her gaze locked on the grocery tote in front of her. “Which wine did you want again?”
She jumped when gentle hands settled on her shoulders. Despite the layers of clothes, her skin tingled.
He slowly turned her, putting her back against the kitchen island. She held her breath.
His hands cruised down her shoulders, then her arms, until they settled on the counter on either side of her, loosely caging her in. He hovered over her, but she didn’t feel threatened, not in the least bit. Instead, an electric current zinged through her body, and for the life of her, she couldn’t look away.
“Sweetheart, if you want to sneak a peek, I don’t mind at all. But if you want a better look...” He paused to stroke his finger over the racing pulse at her neck. “All you have to do is say so.”
Her blood burned. And it had nothing to do with fear.
The corners of his lips tipped up in a sexy smile, and his smoky-gray eyes heated.
No, she hadn’t been wrong before. There was no mistaking the cloud of desire in his gaze now.
She wanted him closer, wanted something more. Exactly what, she didn’t know. But she needed it. Him.
He leaned down, and her stomach fluttered with anticipation.
The sizzling hiss of water boiling over jerked them apart.
“Damn,” he murmured, stepping away to take care of the overflowing pot.
Her breath left her in an unsteady whoosh.
Wow.
She willed her erratic heartbeat to return to normal. To no avail. Like a video on repeat, the moment replayed in her mind: the smoldering fire in his gaze, the scents—leather and forest—that were uniquely him, the warmth of his nearness...
Quinn cleared his throat.
She startled. Great, he’d been talking to her while her scattered thoughts had swirled around in the gutter. Nice.
“I’m sorry. What?”
He chuckled as he uncorked a bottle of red and poured some into another pan, that sexy, satisfied smirk dancing on his face. “I said, don’t worry about the wine. The alcohol will cook off, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Worry about what?” Her mind was mush.
His chuckle turned into a full-on laugh. “About the alcohol hurting the baby.”
“Oh, right. Of course.” Heat crept up her neck, and she fought a cringe. She’d forgotten she was pregnant. What the hell did that say about her?
Focus, Alex!
Onanythingother than Quinn!
Scanning the kitchen in desperation, she spotted the second bottle of wine. “Do you want me to open the other bottle for you?”
