Page 63 of Chance of Romance
He shook his head, not entirely convinced, but on the off chance it got her hot, he was totally going to seduce her as soon as this chore was done. He grabbed a paper towel and squirted some dish soap on it.
“Hold on.” She dug around under the sink and pulled out a clean scrub sponge. “Here, try this.”
He got to work. “So what kind of dessert can you make?”
She leaned against the counter next to him. “Let’s see, I guess it depends what you’re in the mood for. Cookies, brownies, flourless chocolate cake, chocolate mousse, fruit pie—”
“Whoa. Let’s start with the pie. What kind of pie?”
“Whatever kind you like. Apple would probably be easiest to find this time of year.”
“Yes, please. What else can you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“How far do your domestic goddess skills go?”
She shrugged. “Guess that’s a matter of opinion. My friends like coming to my apartment. They say it always smells like cinnamon and vanilla, and the furniture is so cushy. I made the accent pillows and knitted the throw blanket.”
His eyes widened. “I need to see your place.”
“So after this…we’re going to keep seeing each other?”
He stiffened, surprised she’d thought it was just for the weekend. Well, he had said they were having a weekend honeymoon, but he’d assumed they were both into it enough to keep it going. Fuck. He set the pot down and turned to her. “I think we should.”
“Why exactly?” she asked softly.
He scrambled to think of something good without showing his hand. He didn’t want her to know how hooked he was because if this was all just fake to restore her rep, he was in trouble. “Mutual pleasure.”
She pressed her lips together. “Until…”
“I don’t know. Let’s play it by ear.”
She nodded once, turned, and started banging around in cabinets. He got the feeling she was pissed.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just looking for a dish towel.”Slam.“Not there.”Slam.“Got to have them somewhere, right?”
He turned off the water, dried his hands on a paper towel, and caught up with her right after she slammed cabinet number five. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, sliding his hand under her hair and cupping the back of her neck. “Sabrina.”
“What?” she snapped, definitely pissed, but she was staring at his mouth, her breath coming faster. She wasn’t touching him back, though, her hands at her sides.
“I know we’re doing the fake-marriage thing, but I told you this part was real.” He brushed his lips over hers, coaxing. “Don’t be mad.” Another brush of the lips. “Just enjoy.”
She sighed. “I leave tomorrow morning, and I just need to know where I stand. So once we’re both back home, fake honeymoon over, then we’ll still see each other because of mutual pleasure, as in fucking?”
He got hard, hearing her sweet mouth say fucking, but her brown eyes were searching his, so he gave her the truth. “As in more than fucking.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. The beast was back. He didn’t want to hug her, he wanted to bend her over the counter and bury himself deep inside. He cared about her, but the intense need when she was pressed against him made it impossible to hold back. He wrapped her hair around his fist and tugged, tilting her face up to look at him.
She flushed pink, the pulse in her throat beating rapidly. He stroked his fingers down her throat, loving how she responded to him. He was about to lean down and run his tongue over that pulse when she spoke.
“The cabinet slamming was passive-aggressive of me. I apologize. From here on out, I’ll be a better communicator.”
He shook his head. “You’re too damn sweet. Don’t apologize for being mad.”
She met his eyes. “I was mad because it sounded like it was just fucking, but, for me, it’s definitely more. I should’ve said that right up front. I’m still kind of new at the relationship thing, but Ireallywant to be good at it. In theory, I’m an expert, for other people, anyway, but for me not so much.”
