Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eli
She takes another bite of the cinnamon bun, her teeth sinking into the soft, yeasty dough. A smear of white cream cheese glaze catches on the corner of her lip, shining under the kitchen lights.
She looks blissful, her eyes half-closed, a small smile playing on her mouth. It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her since she slammed into my shopping cart.
“You have a bit of…” I reach out without thinking, my thumb brushing the sensitive skin of her lower lip.
The contact is electric. Her entire body stiffens, her breath hitching audibly in the quiet room. The glaze is warm and sticky on my thumb.
I should wipe it off on a napkin. I should pull back.
Instead, I stare at her mouth. Her eyes flutter open, those hazel depths swirling with confusion and sudden heat.
I clear my throat, the sound jarring against the stainless steel countertops, and force my hand to drop back to my side. “Sorry.”
She pulls in a shaky breath, her hand tightening around the mug until her knuckles turn white. She stands up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“Maybe coming here was a bad idea,” she whispers, more to herself than to me. She looks around the kitchen, wild-eyed, like she’s looking for an exit. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Amber.” I keep my voice soft, non-threatening. I don’t want to chase her, but I can’t let her run away either. “I won’t make you stay if you don’t want to. But I like having you here. The kitchen feels less empty with you in it.”
She stops pacing, looking at me with a tortured expression. “I can’t date,” she blurts out, the words rushing out in a tumble. “I can’t do relationships. I can’t… I’m not looking for that. I’m not ready.”
“Okay,” I reply simply.
“Okay?” She blinks, as if she expected me to argue.
“Okay. You don’t have to date me.” I lean back against the counter, crossing my ankles. “We can just be two people eating cinnamon buns and drinking tea. No expectations. No pressure.”
“Fuck.” She runs her hands through her hair, dislodging the messy bun completely. Chestnut waves tumble down around her shoulders, framing her face in a dark halo. She looks frustrated, on the verge of tears or screaming. “That’s the problem.”
“What is?” I ask, watching her closely. She’s vibrating with energy, a live wire looking for a place to ground.
She steps closer, eliminating the distance between us. The scent of her crashes into me—jasmine and rain, but now mixed with something sharper.
Want.
“This,” she breathes, and then she kisses me.
Her lips crash against mine, clumsy and urgent. It’s not a practiced move; it’s a desperate leap. For a split second, I’m too shocked to react. I can feel the tremor in her hands as she grabs my shirt.
Then my brain catches up with the sensation. Soft lips. The taste of cinnamon and sugar. The heat of her body so close to mine.
I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me, and kiss her back. I slide my tongue against hers, tracing the seam of her mouth until she opens for me with a low moan.
It feels incredible. Better than I imagined. She tastes sweet and real, and the way she melts into my grip sends a jolt of desire straight to my groin.
She moans into my mouth, her hands sliding up to circle my waist, clutching the fabric of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
I pull back just enough to cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing her cheekbones. Her eyelids are heavy, her lips swollen and wet.
“You’re gorgeous,” I murmur.
She lets out a breathless laugh, her eyes focusing on mine. “Shut up and kiss me again.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I claim her mouth once more, deepening the kiss. My hand leaves her face, trailing down her neck to her shoulder.
I can feel the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath my fingertips. I trace the top of her jeans, my fingers dipping just beneath the waistband.
She shivers, her hips tilting toward me instinctively.
“Tell me what you need, Amber,” I whisper against her lips.
“I don’t know,” she admits, her voice cracking. “I just… I need something.”
“This can just be dessert,” I tell her, letting my hand drift to the button of her jeans. “No strings. Just pleasure. Let me take care of you.”
I lean in, pressing my lips to the sensitive skin just below her ear. She whimpers, her head falling back to give me better access.
“You make the most delicious sounds,” I murmur, grazing the shell of her ear with my teeth. “I want to hear more of them.”
“Touch me, Eli,” she begs, her hands moving to my chest. She fumbles with the buttons of my shirt, her fingers clumsy in her haste. “Please.”
Her scent is clawing at my throat now, shifting from sweet jasmine to something muskier and richer. It’s the scent of an Omega and it’s making my head spin.
I help her with the buttons, shedding my shirt and tossing it aside. Her hands are on me immediately, exploring the planes of my chest, her fingers brushing over my nipples.
I hiss in a breath, the sensation shooting straight down my spine. I reach for the hem of her sweater and peel it off her body.
She raises her arms to help me, and the fabric falls to the floor. She’s wearing a black bra, simple lace that cups her breasts perfectly.
The contrast against her pale skin is stunning.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, my eyes roaming over her.
I lean down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone, tasting the salt of her skin. My hand traces the band of her panties through the denim of her jeans. I can feel the heat radiating from her.
“Amber,” I murmur against her skin. “I’m going to make you feel good. But you have to promise me you want this. Truly want this.”
“I want this,” she says, her voice firm. She undoes the button of her jeans with shaky fingers, pushing them down her hips. “I want this.”
I kick her shoes aside, then help her step out of the denim. When I look back up, I have to stop and stare.
She’s standing in my kitchen in nothing but a black bra and a pair of leopard print cotton panties with a little bow on the front. They’re unexpected, playful, and incredibly sexy.
“So pretty,” I murmur, my cock straining against the zipper of my pants. She is driving me wild.
I rest my hands on her hips, guiding her backward until her back hits the cool wall of the walk-in cooler. She gasps at the temperature change, but I’m there to warm her up.
I drop to my knees in front of her, looking up at her flushed face. “Trust me,” I say.
She nods, her eyes almost glazed over with desire as she looks down at me.
I lean forward and press a kiss to the fabric of her panties, right over her core. She gasps, her hands tangling in my hair.
Her scent is intoxicating here—rich, musky, and utterly feminine. It’s making me so hard it hurts.
“I want to hear you moan,” I tell her, looking up at her from under my lashes. “I want to know how you sound when I’m inside you.”
I hook my finger into the waistband of the leopard print cotton and trace the seam of her folds. Her hips buck.
“Wait,” she moans, her thighs trembling. “I didn’t plan this. I don’t have… I’m not…”
“I know,” I reassure her, kissing her hip bone. “It doesn’t matter.”
I peel the panties down her legs, revealing her to me. She’s unshaved, a dark thatch of curls that glistens with her arousal. I smirk, looking up at her.
“I don’t care,” I tell her honestly. “I just want to taste you.”
She nods, her lips parted, her chest heaving.
I don’t make her wait any longer. I fuse my mouth to her pussy, licking a broad stripe from her entrance to her clit. She cries out, her fingers tightening in my hair, holding me to her as I begin to devour her.
She tastes like heaven and sin, a complex flavor that I know I will become addicted to instantly. I don’t let up, using the flat of my tongue to lap at her clit before sealing my lips around the tight bundle of nerves and sucking hard.
Her reaction is instantaneous. Her hips jerk off the wall, a choked sob tearing from her throat as her fingers knot in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting.
I love it. I love the urgency, the way she abandons all control. I slide one hand up her thigh, holding her open for me, while the other grips her hip to keep her pinned against the cooler.
She’s so wet, soaking my chin, her musk filling my nostrils and making my head swim. I work her with a relentless rhythm, flicking my tongue fast, then slow, then circling, listening intently to the sounds she makes to figure out exactly what drives her wild.
It happens faster than I expect. One moment she’s panting, her thighs trembling on either side of my head, and the next she’s crying out, her entire body locking up.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck,” she chants, her voice rising to a keen as the orgasm crashes into her.
I keep my mouth on her, easing her through the aftershocks, lapping up the flood of her release until she pushes weakly at my shoulders, oversensitive. I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and look up at her.
Her head is thrown back, her chest heaving, her skin flushed a beautiful, rosy pink. She looks wrecked in the best possible way.
I climb to my feet, my knees protesting slightly against the hard floor, and capture her lips. She kisses me back hungrily, tasting herself on my tongue, her arms winding around my neck to pull me closer.
I can feel her heart beating against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
“You’re incredible,” I murmur against her mouth, sliding a hand down to cup her sex again. She jerks, her hips bucking into my palm. “Do you think you can do that again for me?”
“I don’t know,” she breathes, shaking her head slightly. “I’ve never… that was…”
“Let’s find out.”
I bring my fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean, enjoying the way her eyes darken as she watches me. Then, I slide two fingers back inside her.
She’s still so wet, so hot, that there’s no resistance. She gasps, her head falling forward to rest on my shoulder.