Chapter 9 #2
I was ready to gorge myself on cookies and milk and then read a naughty romance until I fell asleep, trying not to think about Everett and Sofia, so I am only wearing a thin camisole and my sleep pants.
Everett watches as the zipper parts. My nipples are already pressing, obviously, against the cami.
“Where are your parents?”
The fact that we’re in my childhood home makes all of this even naughtier, and I love it. “Fast asleep upstairs.”
Everett reaches over and picks up the cookie I just set down. “I think your brother and Margot are going to be busy for a while.”
That means we have the house to ourselves, sort of.
I boost myself up on the counter so that I am at a better level for…things to come. Everett’s eyes heat. Then I shrug out of my sweatshirt and pull the camisole up.
He growls.
“It’s not like you’ve never seen them before,” I tease.
“I fucking missed them,” he says, his voice rough.
“Well, I’m—”
My words break off as he lifts the cookie to my right breast and swipes it over the entire orb. Frosting definitely gets on my nipple, but also on all of the bare skin.
I gasp. “Oh.”
“Have I mentioned that this buttercream recipe is superb?” he asks.
“It’s award-winning,” I say, breathlessly.
He gives me a naughty grin, then leans in and swipes his tongue over the upper curve of my breast, licking up some red frosting. “I’m never going to be able to eat any other kind.”
Then he takes a seat on the stool in front of me.
He studies me like I’m some column of complicated numbers he’s trying to figure out.
I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing, but he looks up.
“You have no idea how much I want to cover your entire body in this frosting.”
I would squeeze my thighs together, but he’s sitting between my knees. “We can’t do that,” I tell him. “We’re in my mother’s kitchen.”
He nods. “You do get loud.”
I laugh. I did get loud in his hotel room. “I can stay quiet,” I tell him. “It’s more that I would want to take a long time. It’s been a while since Denver.”
His eyes flare with heat. “You’re saying you haven’t been with anyone since me at Halloween?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good.” His tone and expression are possessive.
Considering how snotty I got about Sofia, it would only be fair for him to expect that I wasn’t sleeping with anyone, but he didn’t just assume.
He also didn’t ask before he painted frosting over my naked breast.
“What if I were seeing someone? Would you feel bad about what we’re doing right now?” I ask.
“Not one bit,” he says.
“No?”
He runs his hands up my thighs. “I won’t ask you to unzip.
I won’t unzip you. But you unzipped for me, Ginger.
I will always take you up on that. And make this better than anything you’re getting from anyone else.
If you want to save yourself for someone else, you'd better avoid this kitchen at night when I’m here. ”
My brows arch.
He does the same. “I mean it.”
“Got it.”
I have no desire for anyone else. I have a feeling I’d be thinking about Everett if I so much as had a drink with another man, and that pisses me off. But I’m not looking to date anyone right now, and yeah, okay, Everett is the only man I’ve even considered unzipping for.
He runs his hands up my thighs again. Now there’s a gleam in his eyes. “So you think you can stay quiet?”
I cannot sleep with him. This is such a bad idea. My contract starts in a week.
And, most importantly, I clearly am catching feelings.
“We can’t have sex down here,” I tell him.
But I could maybe sneak him up to my bedroom.
“Okay,” he agrees. Too readily.
He could try a little harder to convince me.
But then I forget to be upset about anything.
Including bad traffic, crappy weather, and freaking war.
Because Everett Clark leans in and starts licking and sucking frosting off of my right breast. At the same time, he plays with my left breast and nipple, until I’m squirming on the counter, my hand in his hair, gasping his name.
Then he simply moves his hand down into the front of my sleep pants, which I wear without panties, by the way, and circles my clit.
I gasp, then moan his name.
He looks up, frosting smeared on his lips. “You need to be quiet, Ginger,” he says.
Then he returns to what he was doing. Except now he lifts one hand and covers my mouth.
At the same time his big palm is keeping me quiet, he slips two thick fingers inside me with the other.
Somehow, I’ve instinctively moved to the edge of the counter so that he can do this.
I’m obviously enabling this entire thing.
And there’s no way I can be apologetic about that as he pumps his knowing fingers deep, his thumb circling over my clit as if he remembers every single second from our night together.
And it's only minutes before I am tumbling over the edge of an orgasm right there where my family eats breakfast every single morning.
The man responsible looks up at me with a pleased grin, licks his lips clean of frosting, then licks his fingers free of me.
I scramble fully upright, pulling my clothes back into place, breathing hard, and staring at him.
“Holy—”
The front door opens, and I react without thinking.
I shove him back and slip to the floor, ducking behind the counter.
Heavy footsteps come toward the kitchen, and it has to be my brother. One of them, but most likely Graham at this time of night, since the other two don’t sleep here anymore.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I start to crawl toward the back staircase.
I hear Everett’s soft chuckle, then feel my sweatshirt hit me in the butt. I grab it as I round the corner. I crawl up two steps and then sit, breathing hard as Graham says, “Hey man, you’re still up?”
“Yeah,” Everett says. “I just can’t get enough of this buttercream. I’m absolutely addicted.”