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I was still wrapped in my towel, my hair a wet mess of curls, but I was starving and needed to check the food situation, which I feared was dismal.
I really should start acting like an adult.
No one my age should be so incompetent when it came to feeding themselves.
I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, which I knew was a fruitless endeavor. I hadn’t put anything but leftovers in there since I had arrived in Ocracoke.
So, unless Macon was interested in leftover French fries from Billy’s…
I went to the pantry next.
“No luck?” He stepped behind me, dressed in clean jeans and a dark blue hoodie that molded to his body perfectly.
“I have ramen,” I answered.
He made a face that resembled something akin to disgust.
I laughed. “Do you want to go to the coffee shop?”
“That would be great.” It was his day off, which meant I had him for the entire day. “Maybe we can run to the market afterward and grab food. Real food.”
“Mmm.” I grinned, stepping closer to plant a sweet kiss on his lips. “I have been craving pancakes.”
“And I’ve been craving maple syrup,” he replied right before his hand slid under the towel to the apex of my thighs. “Right here.”
“Like I said”—I laughed—“insatiable.”
“That’s because you drive me fucking crazy.” He kissed me quickly and deeply before abruptly pulling away. “Go put some clothes on or else we’re never getting out of here today.”
That didn’t sound like the worst idea, but I guessed we would need food at some point.
I started to walk away, but then I paused because it just dawned on me. “No run today?”
He shrugged. “I think I’m okay today.”
My eyes lingered on him, and he obviously noticed the concern.
“It’s fine, really,” he urged. “I run a lot when I’m stressed. I’ve been actually just enjoying it lately, like I used to.”
“So, you’re not going to get all soft on me?” I joked, making his smile reach all the way up to his eyes.
“I will never be soft around you,” he quirked an eyebrow.
I turned back toward the island and grabbed a kitchen towel to throw at his head again, and like before, it sailed over his head as he expertly dodged it. He stepped closer, enclosing me in his arms as he pressed me into the granite behind me.
“You really need to get dressed,” he practically growled. “Seeing you in this towel…in this kitchen…it gives me all sorts of ideas.”
“Like what?” I goaded him.
“Like breaking a fucking vase.” He grinned. “For real this time.”
“Oh, well, you’d have to buy me new flowers first.” I laughed. “If you want to make the fantasy accurate, that is.”
“We can use our imagination.”
But before I could answer, the doorbell rang.
He groaned, and I laughed once more, looking down at my very indecent appearance.
