Page 107 of Long Shot

“Yes. I’ll stay.”

“Fuck, I thinkI’mgonna cry.”

“Ha. No, you’re not. And I’m done crying, too, dammit.”

“Here’s the rest of your present.” He reaches out for the bag.

I shift off his lap to take it. “I have a present for you, too. It’s really nothing . . . and kind of silly.”

“You just gave me the best present.”

I smile into his eyes for a few brimming seconds, then reach into the bag. There’s something wrapped in tissue, something soft . . . I open it to find a red apron. I unfold it and read the wordsCooking is my superpower. This is my cape.

My heart lodges in my throat and I stare at it with blurry eyes. “Thank you.”

“There’s another one.”

I dig into the tissue and pull out a black apron that says,

The chef is always right.

The chef is always right.

The chef is always right.

I sob-laugh and clutch it to me. “I love it. And I’m so glad to see this.” I shoot him an evil grin. “Let me get your present.”

I hurry into my bedroom and find the gift bag I shoved in my closet to get it out of sight.

I hand it to him and he opens it to pull out a similar tissue-wrapped package. He unfolds it and finds another black apron. This one says,I’m not stubborn, my way is just better.

“For when you help me cook,” I say, lips quivering. “Not at Conquistadors, but here, or at your place.” I discovered he loves to grill steaks on the barbecue on his balcony.

“Perfect.” He grins, such a beautiful, joyful smile it makes my heart squeeze. He leans over and kisses me, a soft, lingering press of his lips on mine. “It’ll be great at my place when we’re cooking and wearing nothing but these aprons.”

I laugh and lean my forehead against his. “Okay.”

We set aside the gifts and move together again, kissing with all the built-up emotion inside us, holding each other with hungry hands and impatient touches. “I still can’t believe this,” I murmur. “Oh, God, I’m so relieved and happy.”

“Me, too, baby. Me, too. Let me show you how much.” He pulls me to stand and leads me to my bedroom. With slow, deliberate movements he undresses me. Sadly, I’m wearing a thick navy sweater over black leggings, and basic beige bra and panties that are not even a little sexy. But his eyes heat as he studies me, as he unclasps my bra and cups my breasts with reverent hands, then goes to his knees in front of me to slide my panties down my legs. He presses kisses to my lower belly and I slip my hands into his thick hair, my mouth falling open to exhale softly as he kisses my curls and then lower still. With his hands on my thighs, he eases my legs apart and kisses and licks me there, making me tremble and shake, my knees going wobbly as heat gathers and coils inside me.

“Sweetness,” he murmurs, and he goes back onto his heels then stands to pull his long-sleeved tee over his head. I take a step back and sit on the side of the bed to watch him open his jeans and shove them down, along with his boxer briefs, revealing his handsome body to me, all the muscles of his chest and abs, his strong thighs dusted with gold hair, and his beautiful erection, thick and hard, traced with veins.

He moves closer and I reach for him, curling my fingers around his shaft, making him hiss. “So beautiful,” I whisper.

He bends to kiss me again, then lifts me easily to move me farther onto the bed, coming down over me. I part my thighs to cradle him there, reveling in the weight of him on me. My hands move over his shoulders, the back of his neck, his back, as he kisses me over and over again until my head is spinning and my pussy aches for him. He kisses my throat, my chest, my breasts, tugs my nipples into his mouth with heated pulls that drag a scorching path to my core, and I arch up into him in entreaty. “Please,” I breathe, holding his head to my breast. “Please . . .”

“Condom.”

“Oh . . . I have some . . . but do we need them?” I look into his eyes. “I’m on the pill . . . I don’t know if you . . .” I trail off.

His lips twitch. “I can still get you pregnant.”

“Oh.” I give him a slow smile back. “That’s good. I mean, not that I want to get pregnant . . . right now . . . but you know . . .”

He brushes his mouth over mine. “I know. Got enough testosterone to knock you up, baby, but yeah, we don’t want that right now, so glad you’re on the pill.”

“And I’m safe . . .”

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