Page 29 of Stuck with Me

“If your hands can’t accomplish tightly rolling the dough, I’m not sure I’d trust them on anything else of mine.”

“Is this a test, Kit-Kat?”

“Just roll the damn dough,” I mutter.

He chuckles and I hate that the hum of it sends a vibration between my thighs. I hate that he’s getting to me. And maybe even worse, I hate that heknowshe’s getting to me.

He pinches his end of the dough and pays close attention to my hand and the technique I use to roll my end, along with the speed. It feels like he’s moved even closer to me since we began. Like we’re breathing the same air while we stand at the edge of the counter.

“How am I doing?” His voice is soothing.

“You’re a little too tight.”

“That’s not a complaint you’ll hear from me,” he says.

My hand stills and I swallow. Suddenly it feels as if fire is gushing from the wood stove in the corner of the room rather than only heat. How I react to his comment can either push us over this ledge of flirting we’re teetering on or cause us to stay balancing on it.

I drag my gaze from our hands up to his eyes. The hate I’ve found there previously is clouded now with desire. Mine probably reflects the same.

Dammit.

Cammie tells me I deflect when I get into a situation where I feel too much. Some shit she says is a result of my parent’s death. A coping mechanism, I guess. At this moment, my skin is buzzing with too much feeling, my head is spinning with confusion, and my lady parts are horny as hell.

I am supposed to hate this guy.

I am supposed to hate this guy.

I am supposed to hate this guy.

Lust pours from Nico’s gaze while he studies me, while he waits for a reaction from me, while he waits for the green light. Eagerness thrums in my fingertips to touch him while an intense yearning strains in my core. The way his lips form into a pout makes it impossible not to crave a kiss from him.

I fight the urge to give in. Or maybe I’m fighting the urge to hate him. It would be so easy to walk away. To unpack my suitcase of sex toys. I don’t need him to satisfy this need.

But Iwanthim.

God forgive me.

Or is it Gigi I should ask for forgiveness from?

CHAPTER8

Nico

I’m officially the worst grandson that ever lived.

Rosalie is the enemy. And I want her. More than I’ve ever wanted another woman in my life.

Rosalie takes a step back, but she catches me off-guard when she hooks her finger in the top of my flannel and tugs me with her. I stumble to keep up with her as we move a few paces until her back hits the counter. She sucks in a breath when I place my hands on her waist and squeeze.

Touching her should be a remedy to the craving that’s building inside of me, but instead, it’s only a tease. It only makes the hunger that more intense. I need to taste her, feel her, have all of her.

But I can’t start this if we’re not going to finish it. We’ve been flirting the past two days and the sexual tension is like a rubber band stretched too tight. If we continue like this, that band is going to snap.

Regretfully, I move my hands from her waist to the counter on either side of her and grip the edge, caging her in. Her breathing is resounding, and it makes me feel unhinged. I know she wants me; I just need to hear her say it.

“I’m losing my patience with you, woman. Just say it,” I demand in a rumbled whisper.

Rosie tethers her uninjured hand around my neck and forces me closer. My cock stiffens and I press it against her so she can feel just how bad I want her. Wantthis. She gasps and I lean into her, crushing my lips to her collarbone.

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