Page 10 of At Last

It doesn’t work when he puts his hand up. “Stop.Sit,” he orders. Duke Ellis, Brimstone Lords President, is cookingmedinner. I don’t think any man has ever made me dinner before. Even through the late night study sessions when a boyfriend should. Or when I started as an intern with crazy intern hours. Jade’s father never lifted a finger to help me.

God, I remember a few arguments when he’d yelled at me because I’d chosen to catch up on sleep rather than get dinner on the table for him once he got home from work. He, I’d found outafterwe began living together, had very ‘traditional’ expectations for gender roles, unfortunately.

Well, Duke’s wish is my command, at least right now. I hoist my bottom up onto the countertop, my bare feet dangle over the side.

The burly man grabs my foot to run his fingers over my glitter-pink polish. It’s just a touch on my foot but constitutes more intimacy than I’ve had in years.

I laugh uncomfortably. “Jade likes pedicures. Typically, we do it when we’re home. Friday or Saturday nights.”

“You always use glitter?” His laugh is not uncomfortable, but teasing—in a good way.

“No. Not always glitter, but Jade always picks.”

“So you don’t go out, then? At all?” he asks.

I shake my head. “That night at the clubhouse was my first night out since Jade was a baby. There’s just not enough time in the day. And I have to trust people to care for her. Look how that turned out. I sent her to her first sleepover, she ended up in emergency.”

Before I’m ready for him to stop touching me, because honestly, the contrast of his smooth skin and rough, calloused fingers— I suck in a sharp breath and shudder. If it wouldn’t be so obvious as to why I fanned myself, I’d fan myself. His feather-soft caresses simultaneously calm me and shoot white-hot tingles up my leg.

The man is a serious tease whether he knows it or not. Yet in the tradition set down by the centuries of serious teases before him, he ends the foot fondling to stir the chili simmering on the stove.

I don’t even freak out that he’d neglected to rewash his hands before picking up the cooking utensil. A freak-out might deter him from making a move like that again, and I’d greatly enjoy for him to make a move like that again.

Besides, it’smyfoot. I know my showering habits, so I figure I’ll be fine this one time.

“Right, no going out with your girls. Does that go for dating, too?” He asks, pulling me back from the mental shutdown whichhecaused. It’s a good thing he’s cooking and not assisting me with a patient.

“Dating?”

“Yeah, you know—where a man picks you up and takes you out to dinner, or where the fuck ever.” He picks up the can of tomatoes and one of the cans of beans to dump into the pot.

“A man? I don’t think I remember what one looks like.”

His eyes grow huge, choking on the drink of beer he’d just lifted to his mouth.

Abruptly, I take in how what I’ve said might be construed and attempt to backpedal. “I mean a man on a date. Not saying you aren’t a man. You’re actually quite manly, um… strong… confident… handsome.”

The word vomit keeps spewing from my mouth while Duke throws his head back and laughs loudly. Still deep. Still gritty. Still unbelievably sexy. The sound reverberates throughout the kitchen.

Oh god, had I told him he was handsome?

I bring my bottle up to my lips. What I need to do is shut up now. But I’ve once again given him the upper hand, which means I have to act fast to get it back and cock an eyebrow his direction. “Tisk, tisk, tisk, if that was your way of getting me to divulge what I think of you. Men like you needn’t fish, Mr. Ellis,” I say, then take a long drink. Hoping to all get out, that it sounds more confident than I feel saying it.

At least my voice didn’t tremble.

Duke turns from the stove to push my hand, and thus my bottle, away from my mouth. I guess I sounded confident, because then he kisses me.

No, no. Not just a kiss. His beautiful, slow, sensual assault on my lips far surpasses any ordinary kiss. Dominant and powerful yet allowing me the time to respond.

He smells of cigarette smoke and tastes of Guinness and tobacco, and when his tongue parts my lips, I open fully to receive all he’s willing to give. The full Duke Ellis experience. His touch, his feel, his taste overpowers my senses, making me dizzy. As he presses harder, I feel it. The moment my bones liquefy, and I become pliant in his arms. All that liquid pooling in my lady bits between my thighs.

I can’t even move my arms to hold him back, having lost all body control when I became liquid.

Slowly, he begins to lay me down, my back against the counter. He hooks one of my legs around his hip and begins to stroke me over my shorts, but right there. Right where I need him to touch me. Every nerve ending in my body ignites with burns and tingles. Torturously decadent burns and tingles.Oh god, so good. So good.

Of course, right as he pushes up my T-shirt going in for the kill by tugging on the cups of my bra, right as he has me ready to jump out of my skin from the continuous stroking and now nipple rub, the timer for the cornbread goes off. I am fortunately shocked back to my senses.

This isn’t me.

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