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I clear my throat and resume tending to the breakfast on the stove. “Are you hungry? Everything should be ready shortly. I’m making bacon, eggs, and biscuits.”
“What, no gravy?”
I cackle, looking at her over my shoulder. “I never could master the art of gravy making. It always turns out too thick or thin, but if you’re willing to take the risk…”
She doesn’t respond as I pull the biscuits out of the oven and turn everything off, the odd silence filling me with anxiety as I load our plates. With one for each of us in my hands, I head over to the table. She follows me with her coffee but doesn’t take a seat when I do.
Instead, she places a hand on her hip and puckers her lips as she regards me with curiosity.
“What? Is gravy like a deal breaker or something?” The laugh that follows my question sounds as forced as it felt, and she doesn’t move or respond in any way. “Will you at least sit down? You’re making me nervous hovering over me like that.”
She shakes her head. “What’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
I raise my eyebrows, pointing to myself. She’s the one who seems to have some kind of issue, not me.
“Yeah, your deal,” she repeats, as if I should understand what she means.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me more than that if you want an answer. And can’t we discuss this while we eat? Your food is going to get cold.” I gesture to the empty seat with the plate in front of it before picking up my fork and taking a bite of my eggs.
“Are you gay?”
Her question causes me to nearly choke on my food, and I glare at her with narrowed eyes, taking a sip of my juice to clear my windpipe. “Excuse me?”
She shrugs. “I mean, you clearly love to cook. You cooked me dinner, now breakfast.”
“No, Lori.” I shake my head, scoffing as I roll my eyes. “I’m not gay. That’s kind of an offensive question, don’t you think? Being gay doesn’t make you a good cook.”
She gives me a half-hearted, one shoulder shrug as she places her coffee on the table.
“Anyway, don’t most women usually swoon over men who can cook?”
She huffs. “I’m not like most women.”
I nod in agreement, chewing the food I shoveled into my mouth. “That is something we can agree on.”
“What’s your end game here?” she asks, waving her hand in a circular motion. “If you don’t want to sleep with me, what is it you want?”
My eyebrows shoot up as I study her to see if she’s being serious. Her rigid posture and stony expression certainly make her appear to be. “What the hell are you talking about? Who says I don’t want to sleep with you?”
She huffs, throwing her hands up, then letting them drop dramatically. “The fact that I’ve been here all night and you haven’t made a single move on me.”
Letting out a sigh, I look back down at my food and drop my fork on my plate. A mixture of emotions stirs in me as I push myself away from the table, rising to my feet. I’m frustrated by the conversation and buildup of sexual tension, but I also feel a little sad for her. Somewhere along the way, she’s concluded men only want to spend time with her for one reason: sex. At some point, she stopped valuing herself, or maybe she never did, and that makes me angry.
Holding her in my arms last night felt better than any sexual encounter I’ve ever had. It sure as hell meant more than some meaningless roll in the hay would’ve. But if she needs proof of my carnal desire for her as well, I’m happy to oblige.
She sucks in a breath, her cheeks coloring as I pull her crossed arms apart and wrap mine around her. My vision blurs as her body presses into mine. A soft moan floats through her parted lips as she rubs against my arousal, and I momentarily forget. My lips crash down on hers, my tongue finding easy access into her mouth.
Last night when she kissed me, I held back from fear I wouldn’t be able to stop once I let go. But this time, I’m in control. I want to leave her desperate for more. It might be the only way I’ll get what I want—her.
There’s an eagerness in her kiss, but my tongue keeps a steady, teasing rhythm as it massages hers. My hands begin to explore, seeking out the answer to a question that’s been on my mind since she bent over the counter. The palms of my hands cup her ass cheeks, which fit perfectly inside of them as suspected, my thumbs gliding underneath the seams of her panties before I give them a soft squeeze.
Her hands move to the back of my head, her fingers combing through my hair as she attempts to deepen our embrace. Without warning, I pry my lips away to break our kiss. Her arms fall around my shoulders as I lean my head back and try to calm my racing pulse, her eyelashes fluttering as she focuses her gaze on me.
“Dear god. Please. Don’t stop,” she pants, her tone laced with desperation. I have her on my hook, now I need to reel her in. “I was finally starting to enjoy your company.”
I laugh and squeeze her ass a little harder, grinding into her. My head drops, my lips landing on her neck. Her body trembles with need as I make a trail of kisses up to her jaw. I suck her earlobe into my mouth and give it a little nibble, blowing a heavy breath over the path I made.
