Page 65 of Common Grounds

“The same recipe you serve in your shop?” she asks quietly.

I nod. “Passed down from him.” I pause, regarding her. “So, when you said you had a sweet tooth the night we met”—I shrug—“It felt right. I felt lucky. And you, uh…” I rub the back of my neck again, suddenly embarrassed. “You made me laugh. Of course, I didn’t know you were going to leave me in the middle of the night,” I tease.

She glares playfully at me. “I’d shove you, but I don’t want to hurt you further.”

“You should absolutely take pity on me,” I pout, clutching my bruised side.

“That’s beautiful, though. Thank you,” she says on a breath, her lips parted and her eyes shining.

“You’re beautiful,” I return quietly, and she doesn’t protest. “Are you going to use that story in your next article?”

She shakes her head, her eyes locked on mine. “No. That one’s just for me.”

I stand, drawing her up with me. I reach a tentative hand up to cup her cheek, and she leans into it. I thread my fingers through her silky hair and force myself not to moan.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” I whisper.

“Please do,” she whispers back.

Chapter twenty-five

Emery

This kiss is entirely different from the one we shared the night we met. It’s soft, though it’s no less passionate. It’s not as hurried, but equally as intense. His facial hair scrapes the skin around my lips as I press closer to him. He smells like rich coffee and tastes like tangy hops. His entire presence envelopes me. And just like that first night we spent together, I want more.

I slide my hands up his waist and under the hem of his t-shirt, pressing my palms into the skin of his torso, like I’ve wanted to since the minute he answered the door. I can’t believe I almost walked away from this. I’m so glad I came back.

He’s everything. And when his tongue meets my lips, asking gently for me to open for him, I do without hesitation. It slides sensually in to meet mine, hot and wet and full of promise.

It’s the kind of kiss that ruins you for all other kisses. I’m hazily aware of this fact when he breaks it and presses his forehead to mine. His hand is still cupping the nape of my neck, keeping me close. I would do anything to have that hand explore the rest of my skin the way his fingers are exploring my hair.

“Stay,” he says. It’s a command and a question. No, not a question. A plea. And it opens something in my chest the same way his mouth opened mine a few seconds ago.

“Okay,” I reply, tilting my head to kiss him again, but he pulls away enough to meet my gaze. His amber eyes are almost entirely black. Smoky. Steamy. Obsessed. With me, I vaguely realize, and something tight releases within me.

“No,” he breathes. “I want you for the whole night. I want to touch you and taste you and fuck you and sleep next to you and wake up to do it again.”

Holy shit, that’s hot. I don’t make a habit of staying the night at guys’ places. But, then again, none of them have asked me to. And, frankly, none of them have kissed me like that either.

I laugh breathily. “Way to put it all on the table upfront,” I joke.

A corner of his mouth ticks up, creasing the skin there. It’s my favorite look on him, and it registers that I can run my thumb over that little crease if I want to. I do, the course hairs scraping against the pad of my finger.

His eyes go hooded. “We can do it on the table, too, if you prefer.”

I giggle again, suddenly nervous. “I think the bed will do just fine.”

“So, you’ll stay?” He’s so focused on me that it takes a moment for me to fully catch my breath.

“Just one night?” I ask, and I’m surprised to find that I’m not sure which answer I want.

Something flashes in his expression, but I can’t decipher it. He leans in and kisses me again, as if this moment of separation between our lips has been too long. As if he needs to fill up with me before he can move on. “Let’s start with one.” As he talks, he slides his other hand under my blouse and cups my breast over my bra. He squeezes, and my knees go weak. “We can see how it goes.” He draws the fabric down and pinches my nipple. My head falls back, exposing my neck to him. He leans in and presses a hot, wet kiss on the column of my throat. “But I’m open to more than just the one,” he says, kissing my throat again. “If you are.”

“Okay.” I moan as he flicks my nipple with his thumb. He withdraws his hand from under my blouse to undo the buttons. His fingers make quick work of them, but they’re light as feathers when he brushes the fabric off my shoulders, fully exposing the red lace of my bra.

Trevor’s eyes darken again, and his breath hitches. “You wore this to pick up another guy tonight?” He slides one strap off my shoulder and kisses down to where my nipple is exposed. He draws it into his mouth and sucks on it, hard. Almost punishing, but oh, so wonderful. My skin is on fire. I want his mouth and hands everywhere, all at once.

“We all made some foolish mistakes in the past few hours,” I say.

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