Page 20 of A Week To Wed
My heart pounds against my ribs. The scent of earth, leather, and sweat fill my lungs, making me dizzy. His fingers dig into my hips, heat pooling in my core, wetting my panties. I want to rub myself all over him. I don’t care if I just took a bath and he’s filthy from the outdoors.
He finally pulls away from the kiss, his lips pink and glistening, his eyes intense. If I didn’t know any better—and if he hadn’t just kissed me within an inch of my life—I’d think something was wrong. My body is howling for joy, yet this cowboy looks almost angry.
“You are an incredible, frustrating woman, Maisy.”
“Th-thanks?” I stammer. “What brought this on?”
“You just are,” Lincoln rumbles, the last word disappearing into my mouth as he kisses me again.
I’ll take that. I’ll let him think that as long as he keeps kissing me. Keeps hauling my hips against him so tight that I can feel the fence post inside his jeans pressed against my pelvic bone.
I could get lost with this cowboy, here in the kitchen. But burners are on, and things are happening that might cause the kitchen to burn down around us if I don’t pump the brakes.
As much as I don’t want to, I fist the sleeve of Lincoln’s thick jacket and pull him off me.
“I was going to surprise you with dinner,” I breathe.
A smile curves on his lips as he takes in the glass pitcher containing the waffle batter.
“Breakfast for dinner, huh?”
I nod. “Technically, ham sandwiches using waffles for bread. So now the surprise is ruined. But I must say I like being surprised with a kiss instead.”
He takes a step back, and my body aches at losing contact. I could jump him, straddle him right now. The things this cowboy does to me.
Lincoln rubs a thumb over his bottom lip. “Good.”
I watch his gaze travel to the lapels of my satin bathrobe. His amber eyes are flecked with darker brown and intense. I glance down and see that my robe is still fastened. But a person taller than me standing right in front of me could see right down the front of my robe. Which Lincoln is, and he can. My unruly nipples respond by tightening under the satin as his eyes roam over my skin.
“I especially like being surprised by you coming home early,” I add. “Even if I’m not…decent.”
He hums in acknowledgment. “I’ll go clean up while you finish dinner.”
I watch him walk up the stairs to his room, wishing I was going with him. I don’t know if I’m feeling brazen enough to offer to shower with him. But oh, I’ve thought about it. What I would do to that hard body would land me in jail in some states.
I present a platter spilling over with ham and cheddar waffle sandwiches at the table when Lincoln emerges from the shower in an old tee shirt and sweatpants.
He doesn’t know he looks like a model ready for a rustic kitchen photo shoot. Lincoln’s stomach rumbles when he sees the sandwiches.
“They smell great, Maisy,” he says, taking two at one time and sitting in his usual spot across the table from me.
I eat one of the sandwiches, which is plenty for me. He nudges another one across the table toward me, but I’m no longer hungry, as I’ve also filled up with fruit and salad.
“I’m good. Eat your greens and strawberries. The antioxidants are good for you,” I say, pushing the salad bowl at him.
He chuckles. “I can’t recall the last time the cook harassed me into eating a salad.”
Before I can stop myself, I chirp, “Your wife’s here to take care of you now, and I want you to live a long, long time.”
The smile on Lincoln’s face softens. I’ll be damned; he eats every bite of that spring salad and two sandwiches.
A snort sounds from under the table, and when I peek down, Molly and Loki are curled up together, with Molly’s head on my feet. Frank has his head resting in my lap, angling for a treat.
I almost hate to get up again and disturb the dogs, but there are dishes to be done.
“I’ll scrub. You dry,” Lincoln says, nodding to me and clearing all the dishes so quickly I didn’t have time to object.
After that hair-curling kiss, where did this soft-spoken gentleman come from?
