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“Okay, Benedict,” she says playfully, snapping me out of my reverie. “You’re up. Let’s see how well you can shape these rolls.”
I take the dough from her, and our fingers brush for a fleeting moment, sending a wave of want through me. The sensation is intoxicating, and I imagine what it would feel like to have her touch linger on my skin.
Easy there, tiger, I think to myself, trying to regain control over my thoughts.Focus on the task at hand.
As we work in tandem, I notice the clothes she’s wearing. They’re slightly too big for her, draping off her shoulders and revealing the smooth, tanned skin underneath. I feel a pang of jealousy when I realize they belong to Hudson, my best friend and fellow firefighter.
Why is she wearing his clothes?Did something happen between them?Why does the thought make my mouth taste sour? Because I want her too?
“Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes searching mine for any signs of trouble, noticing that something in the air has changed.
“Of course,” I lie, trying to dismiss my jealousy. “I’m just a little clumsy with the dough.”
“Ah, don’t worry,” she says warmly, her hand resting gently on my arm. “It takes practice.”
The simple touch sends my heart racing, and I can’t help but wonder if she feels the same unrelenting pull between us. As we continue our work, I swallow my jealousy and focus on the connection growing between us—one that is far more potent than any article of clothing could ever be.
If she were going to pick one of us, it would be me, right?
The heat in the kitchen is palpable—not just from the oven, but also from whatever is brewing between Harper and me. As we start the cinnamon rolls baking and begin to prep the icing, our movements are fluid, synchronized, like a dance. Our bodies brush against each other, and our breaths mix as we share the same air. The atmosphere is charged with desire, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to act on it.
“Could you pass me the icing?” Harper’s voice breaks through my thoughts, her tone sultry, unintentional as it may be.
“Sure,” I reply, handing her the bowl. Our fingers touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. I watch as she spreads the sweet glaze over the warm rolls, entranced by the way her hands move with such precision and grace.
“Thanks,” she says, her eyes meeting mine for a moment before she looks away. Has she noticed my lingering gaze? Does she feel the intensity building between us? There’s no way she doesn’t feel this too.
“Here, let me help you with that,” I offer, stepping closer to assist her with the icing. Our arms brush together, the heat radiating off her body, and I imagine what it would be like to hold her close, to taste her lips.
I bet she’ll taste like fruit.
“Sorry,” Harper whispers as she shifts to reach for a spatula, her hip bumping against mine. She tries to step back but slips on a small patch of spilled icing on the floor. In an instant, her breath hitches, her wide eyes finding mine as panic sets in.
“Harper!” I react quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her from falling. Though her near fall has been averted, the sensation of her body pressed against mine sends my heart pounding even harder.
“Thank you,” she stammers, a blush staining her cheeks as she catches her breath. “I didn’t see that there.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assure her, my grip on her waist lingering just a moment longer than necessary before I reluctantly let go. “Accidents happen.”
As we return to our task, the sweet scent of cinnamon and the warmth of Harper’s body close to mine only serve to intensify the sexual tension that continues to build. The kitchen may be small, but the space between us feels even smaller, as if the universe itself is conspiring to bring us closer together. And for a moment, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I simply gave in to temptation.
It wouldn’t be hard, to reach forward and take her in my arms, kiss her like I want to and show her how much I care, but there’s something holding me back.
Maybe it’s that she’s supposed to be a guest, and I don’t want to just jump her…even if I’m pretty sure she wants me too.
Our fingers brush against each other as she takes the spatula from me, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. My breathing becomes heavier, and I know I won’t be able to resist any longer.
“Harper,” I say softly, leaning closer to her. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t pull away. “I need to do this.”
“Wha—” she starts, but I silence her with a kiss. It’s slow at first, tentative and gentle, but as her hands find their way into my hair, the passion between us grows more intense. Our lips move together in perfect harmony, our bodies pressed tightly together. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, and I know she must be feeling mine.
“God, Benedict,” she whispers when we break apart for air. “That was…”
“Amazing,” I supply, my voice rough with need. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Didn’t think…you’d ever make a move,” she admits, her eyes locked on mine.
“Neither did I,” I confess. “Wait, how did you…?”
