Page 40 of Paxton

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” I admit, wondering why the hell I feel a flush creeping beneath my skin. This isPaxtonfor fuck’s sake. It's not like this is the first breakfast I've ever made him. Far from it.

But there was something about the way I woke up this morning, stretching out contently in my bed, Paxton asleep next to me, a pleasant soreness between my thighs and a loose body from being worshipped the night before. I’d looked down at him, and I saw something stretching out before me, a path that felt like it had the ability to changeeverything. And I just wanted to thank him, spoil him, do anything to show him how much I appreciated him in every aspect of the phrase.

“You're always nice to me,” he says with a sly smile. “Except for when we playUno. You always kick my ass at that game.”

A laugh rips from my lips, loud and raw and hard to reel in. “We haven't played that game in years,” I finally say.

“Beatings that brutal aren't easily forgotten,” he counters, finishing the last bite on his plate before leaning back against his chair with a contented sigh. “You keep treating me like this and I'm going to find a way to convince you to stay here forever,” hesays, almost like an afterthought, and then his rich brown eyes widen slightly, panic radiating there as he looks at me.

I tense up, unable to stop the automatic reaction from rippling throughout my body.

But it feels different when he says it.

“That goes both ways,” I hurry to say, smiling at him and laughing forcefully as if it's a joke when it's anything but. Paxton has treated me better than anyone on the planet for longer than I can remember, and these last weeks with him have been next to blissful.

But nothing that great lasts forever, right?

“I'm starting to like your bed just a little too much,” I add, trying to switch the sincerity in my words to something more teasing and playful, something safer and not so committed.

The tension eases out of Paxton’s shoulders, and he grins at me. “I like my bed better with you in it too,” he says, the tone of his voice dipping into that lower register that sends warm tendrils skittering over my skin.

I bite back a smile, pushing away from the table and reaching for his empty plate, but he beats me to it, taking them to the sink and rinsing them off before popping them in the dishwasher. He then grabs the skillet I used, moving to wash it.

“Paxton, I made the mess,” I protest. “I'll clean it up. You go get your workout in. It's okay.”

“You cooked,” he says. “I'll clean up. And the guys will get started without me. I'm sure Baylor’s already been there for an hour now,” he adds while he finishes wiping down the counters.

He washes his hands, drying them on a towel before turning to face me. His eyes trail the length of my body, and I don't know how he’s capable of it, but somehow, he makes me feel like I'm wearing the most luxurious lingerie and not a pair of Bangor sweats and a white tank top that has avocado stains on it.

“Knowing Baylor, he’s probably been there for two,” I counter, but there’s a tenseness in my tone that even I can't hide.

Paxton spans the distance between us, bracing a hand on either side of the counter, caging me in in the most delightful and dominating way. He dips down to smooth his lips over mine, and a warm shiver travels the length of my body. I arch into him, needing more contact as I deepen the kiss, sighing between his lips as he folds his arms around me to bring our bodies flush.

Every thought empties from my mind, narrowing to the sensation of his lips against mine. I didn't know kisses like this existed, and even though he's kissed me plenty of times, I’m still shaken every single time.

His hands fall to my hips, gently squeezing there as his tongue rubs against mine, the two of us gripping each other as if we're the only things we can hold on to.

His hand travels lower down my thigh, and he bends slightly, hooking his hand behind my knee to draw my leg around his hip. I gasp at the contact, heat blazing through me?—

My alarm chimes from where my phone sits on the counter next to us, the shrill sound breaking the two of us out of our kiss.

I cringe, my body buzzing with need as I silence the alarm and look up at him apologetically. “I have a client coming in fifteen minutes,” I say. “I still need to get my room set up and my table ready.”

Paxton quickly kisses me again. “Well, what I want to do with you will takemuchlonger than fifteen minutes,” he says like it's the most natural thing in the world. He kisses me again, then gently sets me right, and takes a small step back.

His eyes trail the length of my body one more time as he nods.

“I’ll be thinking about you all day,” he says, grabbing his gear bag and keys as he heads toward the front door. “If you're donewith your clients by two, I know Blakely and Reese are coming to the pick-up game.”

“They're going to pick me up,” I say, still slightly flushed. How can he look so good in simple gym clothes, standing there looking at me like I'm his favorite snack?

His smile is what takes my breath away, all pride and excitement just from me coming to watch him play a pick-up game. Not like I haven’t already been to every single game before, but now? It's like me showing up for him is different somehow. And I can't deny how much I love putting that smile on his face.

“Perfect,” he says. “Always play better when you're there watching me.”

I laugh, butterflies flapping in my stomach. “Ialwayswatch you,” I say as I head toward the door.

“Must be the reason I'm so good.” He waggles his eyebrows at me, a confident grin over those full lips before he leans down and kisses me one last time. “See you in a little while,” he says before he heads out the door, almost like he has to physically force himself to take the steps away from me.

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