Page 5 of Our Bay Will Come

"They're delicious." My voice drops to a whisper as his lips hover near mine. "Compliments to the chef."

"I can think of better ways to show appreciation," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine again, tasting of maple syrup and possibilities I'm not ready to name.

This is dangerous territory—standing on the edge of something that feels like more than a one-night stand. But as Fox's hands slide up my thighs, pushing the flannel higher, I decide that danger might be worth exploring.

Just this once.

CHAPTER TWO

FOX

My hands slide up her thighs, pushing the borrowed flannel shirt higher. Everything about her drives me wild—her scent, the way she arches into my touch, that little half-smile that says she's enjoying herself despite her better judgment. I lift her onto the island counter in one fluid motion, enjoying her surprised gasp.

"What are you doing?" she asks, her voice husky.

"Showing my appreciation for your company," I murmur against her neck, trailing kisses down her throat. "Unless you want me to stop?"

"Don't you dare," she breathes, fingers threading through my hair.

I unbutton the flannel slowly, revealing her body inch by inch. The morning light filtering through the kitchen window bathes her skin in gold. She's fucking perfect—all lean muscle and soft curves. I've been with women before, but none of them have gotten under my skin like Prue Griffin.

"You're staring," she says, a hint of vulnerability in her voice that she tries to mask with bravado.

"Can't help it." I push the shirt off her shoulders, letting it pool around her waist. "You're beautiful."

Her cheeks flush, and she tugs me closer for a kiss that's all heat and hunger. I could get lost in her mouth forever, but I have other destinations in mind. I trail kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, taking my time. She's impatient, tugging at my hair, trying to direct me where she wants me.

"Slow down," I whisper against her skin. "We've got time."

"I thought I was leaving after pancakes," she reminds me, but there's no conviction in her voice.

"Plans change." I cup her breasts, teasing her nipples with my thumbs until she moans. "Tell me what you want, Prue."

Her blue eyes lock with mine, darkened with desire. "Your mouth. I want your mouth on me."

Fuck, she's sexy when she's direct. I drop to my knees, positioning myself between her thighs. She watches me, bottom lip caught between her teeth, as I push the flannel up around her waist. Her legs part for me, an invitation I have no intention of refusing.

I kiss the inside of her thigh, working my way up slowly. She's already wet, her body honest even when her words try to keep me at a distance. I breathe her in, savoring the moment before I taste her.

"Fox," she whispers, impatient. "Please."

I give her what she wants, my tongue finding her center. The sound she makes—half-gasp, half-moan—goes straight to my cock. I take my time, exploring her with long, deliberate strokes, learning what makes her breath catch, what makes her fingers tighten in my hair.

"God, you're good at that," she pants, hips moving against my mouth.

I slip one finger inside her, then two, pumping them furiously as I focus my attention on her clit. Her thighs begin to tremble on either side of my head.

"Don't stop," she commands, and I have no intention of disobeying.

I work her with my mouth and fingers until she's right on the edge, her body tensing beneath me. When she comes, it's with my name on her lips, her back arching off the counter. I don't let up, drawing out her pleasure until she's pushing weakly at my shoulders.

"Too much," she gasps. "I can't?—"

I rise to my feet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Her cheeks are flushed, hair wild, eyes slightly unfocused. She's never looked more beautiful.

"Come here," she says, reaching for me.

I step between her legs again, and she pulls me down for a deep kiss, tasting herself on my lips. Her hand slips between us, finding me hard and ready through my sweatpants.

---