Page 30 of The Agent
“Nothing could taste as good as you,” he rumbled against her skin before he kissed her shoulder.
“And I’m low cal too,” she joked, but pleasure swooped through her. He chuckled and bent to pick up his clothes. She admired the expanse of skin that rippled over the flexing muscles in his back. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to leave off the shirt.”
“As long as I don’t have to stand over a frying pan.”
“I promise to do all the frying.” She skimmed her panties up her legs and stood to put on her jeans. She looked around for her bra.
“Can I make the same deal with you?” he asked with an interested gleam in his eyes.
She laughed. “Not if I’m cooking.”
He stood up behind her and snaked his arms around her rib cage to cup her breasts, sending another shot of pleasure sparkling into her core. “I could protect your bare skin from splatter like this.”
“Nice try, but you just wanted to cop a feel.” She brushed his hands away with a certain reluctance.
“Busted.” True to his word, he dressed in just his briefs and jeans, not even bothering with his boots.
He leaned one shoulder on her doorjamb, his gaze appreciative as she finished dressing. She could feel the weight of it like a brush over her skin. After she ran a comb through her hair, she turned and let her eyes take in the sight of him. Sex-tousled hair. Gray eyes lit with residual lust. Door-filling shoulders roped with muscle under bare skin. Ridged abs under the soft dusting of brown hair. Long denim-wrapped legs crossed at the ankles. Wide, strong bare feet.
“I’m puttingyouon the menu,” she said.
He pushed away from the door and prowled over to her to hook his fingers in her belt loops. “I was thinking that you would be dessert. On the counter. Legs open while I lick you.”
His words tickled over her, setting little fires everywhere.
“But first the main course.” He used one hand to spin her into his side so he could hustle her toward the bedroom door.
Tully sat on a stool at the counter, slicing and dicing the various vegetables Natalie put in front of him. It felt strange to cook half-naked but worth it for the admiring heat in her eyes. Everything else about the situation felt good. Maybe too good.
But watching Nat move around her kitchen, throwing together a chicken dish of some sort, made him happy. It could be the way her blonde hair swung against her cheek, reminding him of its silky texture when she rested her head on his shoulder. Or maybe the glimpse of her delicate little feet with their pink-polished nails. She’d disappointed him by putting on a bra, but her T-shirt still outlined those beautiful breasts that he’d sucked to hard points while she arched into him. His cock began to stir, so he brought his focus back to the tomato he was slicing for the salad.
“You’ve gotten quiet,” Nat said, looking up from the sink as she washed more vegetables.
“Basking in the afterglow, sweetheart,” he said. “And enjoying the sight of you.”
“Oh, I understand enjoying the sights.” She gave him a sexy slant of a smile.
“Am I being objectified?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m fine with that.”
“Let’s just say that I would cook a lot more if you were always my sous-chef.”
He chuckled, feeling that dangerous sense of rightness again. He usually avoided this kind of domestic scene. It made him want things he couldn’t have. He needed to remind himself that he was here to protect her.
“After we eat, I’ll get the cameras installed,” he said.
She went still, staring down at the water running over her hands. “I’d actually forgotten about the stalker.” She shook her head. “Did you make love to me to distract me?”
“I made love to you because I’ve wanted to for weeks.” He realized he sounded pissed off, so he softened his tone. “And it was worth the wait.”
“That was a joke,” she said with a wry look. “Mostly.”
He wanted to drop the knife and put his arms around her, but she started messing with the raw chicken.
He hated that she was afraid of the stalker but he felt confident he would catch the culprit soon. What he couldn’t fix was her lack of confidence. Here was this beautiful, passionate woman who believed he would take her to bed as some sort of professional kindness. And he’d caught that same undercurrent of self-doubt in other comments she’d made.
Her SOB of an ex-husband must have really done a number on her. His grip on the knife tightened until his knuckles went white. Yeah, he would have to pay a visit to Matt the Dirtbag. Maybe scare him just a little as payback. Of course, if he turned out to be the stalker, Tully would do a lot more than scare him.
He whacked the hell out of the tomato and piled the slices on a plate. “Got something else I can hack up?”
