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“You like that?” he asked, his voice a sexy rumble, and she sighed contentedly, wanting to rub herself all over him like a cat.
“Yes.” Another, longer kiss. But this time when he lifted his head, she went up on her toes and followed his mouth hungrily. He kept his lips just out of reach.
“And that?”
“Oh yes.” Her eyes were fixed on that gorgeous mouth of his. She needed more.
“Now tell me,” he began, bending his head to nuzzle her neck. “Do you like eggs?”
“No,” she admitted.
“What about as an ingredient? Like in pancakes or waffles?” His lips were so close they brushed against hers when he spoke, and Daff was so desperate for his kiss that she was grateful for even that small touch and finding it hard to concentrate on his words.
“I like pancakes,” she said softly. “Eggs are okay if I can’t really taste them.”
He lifted his head and smiled at her. Daff smiled back, feeling more lighthearted than she had in years.
“Grab a shower and get dressed while I fix your breakfast,” he instructed, and, still dazed from the kisses, she nodded and walked to the bathroom where she had left her clothes last night.
She thought about the exchange while she luxuriated beneath the gloriously hot shower. A silly, seemingly inane conversation about eggs that meant everything to her. She was so used to pretending with men and lying to herself, and that trite little chat had been the most honest talk she’d ever had with a man. The recognition was both frightening and wonderful. She was terrified that he was rapidly becoming . . . essential to her. And while part of her wanted to keep him at arm’s length in case he hurt her, another—braver—part of her was certain he could and would keep her heart safe.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Once again, Spencer didn’t join her for lunch, and an earnest young man named Alton delivered the food. This time the note was sealed in an envelope and stapled to the bag like the day before. Daff couldn’t wait for Alton to leave so that she could read it.
Daff,
I have another meeting today. Don’t know how I’ll get through it. I’ve been hard all day, thinking about how hot and wet and messy and very fucking sexy our encounter was last night. I suggest we keep trying this sex thing till we get it right. Because getting it wrong feels pretty damned amazing.
Enjoy your lunch. Eat every bite—you’re going to need your strength.
XX
S
Daff sighed and held the note to her chest for a moment, a dreamy smile on her face as she considered his words.
Damn it, why did he have to be so irresistible? The man was very swiftly becoming the most all-consuming force in her life. She couldn’t stop thinking about him—her hair smelled like his shampoo, her body like his soap. Her mouth and breasts were still tender from his kisses, and everything south of her waist tingled and buzzed and clenched at the memory of his solid heat grinding against her softness.
Daff had never really liked sex, but with Spencer, maybe the humiliation and wrongness she’d always felt wouldn’t be so bad. She’d certainly felt no regret after their last two encounters. But that could very well be because they hadn’t truly had sex. She dreaded the inevitability of that particular intimacy, but for once had hope that it would turn out okay. Spencer was different. He wasn’t as arrogant or as brash and condescending as any of the guys she had formerly dated.
“What are you mooning about?” The voice was unexpected, and Daff swore and nearly dropped the note in fright. Daisy had managed to walk right up to the counter without Daff hearing the bell at the door or her sensing her presence.
“Shit, you scared me, Deedee!” Her youngest sister grimaced at the nickname—she had never liked it—before homing in on the brown paper bag on the counter in front of Daff.
“You were so busy mooning over your love letter that you didn’t even hear me come in,” Daisy said while opening up the bag to peek at the contents. “Yum! New boyfriend? Is he a chef? Because this looks awesome.”
Daisy stuck her hand into the bag and withdrew several of the now-familiar plastic containers. Where did Spencer find the time to pack these lunches? Daff hadn’t noticed him preparing anything that morning. Or the day before.
“Oh my, is this lamb tagine?” Daisy asked, practically drooling, after opening the biggest box. “It smells divine. I’m starving and there’s enough here for two. Want to share with your poor, hungry baby sister?”
“I thought you were dieting for the wedding?”
“Please, you know that’s just something people feel compelled to say before they get married. Anyway, breakfast was hours ago. I’m starving.”
“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
