His eyes darkened and her gaze landed on his lips as they parted. She waited on bated breath for his answer.
And waited.
“Can I shower first?”
Huh? “Shower?”
“Yeah, your shower. I’m all sweaty.”
Hold up. This man was going to be naked upstairs in her shower? He was practically naked now, but add a bit of soapy water and a whole bunch of him touching himself as he scrubbed...
She reached back and braced herself using the wall behind her.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I... I just need coffee.”
He nodded. “So, shower?”
“Yes, please... I mean...” She cleared her throat and looked at something neutral, like his sneakers.
His finger tucked under her chin and he lifted her face. His lips were moving again. What happened to the sound?
“What?” she whispered.
“Towel?” He was wearing a crooked grin. That grin no longer made him look like a bad boy, it made him look... doable. Completely, utterly doable.
“In the hall closet.”
With a nod, he dropped his hand and stepped back. “Frankie.”
“Huh?”
“I’m gonna go take a shower. You go make breakfast. Make whatever you want. I’m sure it’ll taste good.”
I’m sure you would taste good, too. “Mmm hmm.”
“Coffee, too, since you’re having brain freeze.”
No, it was more like her brain was overheating. Among other things. She needed to crank the temp lower on the A/C unit in the front window. Like to zero degrees.
“Frankie.”
“Yeah?” she breathed.
“Breakfast.”
She nodded and watched as he disappeared, bounding up the steps like he lived there.
Then she tried to remember the last time she cleaned the bathroom. Even if it had been a month, it had to be better than the bathroom at the motel. She had used it before leaving his room yesterday and she cringed when she did so. So, no matter what condition her bathroom was in, it probably looked like the Ritz compared to the one in his tiny room.
It took her a few seconds to unstick her feet, and she moved until she stood at the base of the stairs, staring up them.
She was torn. Go up and help him shower. Or fight that urge and go make breakfast.
She didn’t need a new mess in her life.
She didn’t need to get involved with a man who could possibly be dangerous.
Though, it wasn’t like they were going to date or anything.
And Leo wasn’t home.
She hadn’t been with a man since Taz. And, to be honest, that experience was far from stellar.
She wondered how stellar Hunter was in bed.
She had a son to worry about now. It wasn’t just her anymore.
He was right. She needed to think before she acted. Her sprinting up the stairs and tackling him like a starving bear that just woke up from hibernation wouldn’t be her thinking “properly.”
She’d already done enough in her life she regretted. She didn’t want to add to the list willingly.
Therefore, she blew out a breath and when she heard the squeaky faucet in the shower turn on, she headed toward the kitchen to make breakfast.
She sensed him before she smelled him. Her body wash was mango scented and he had no choice but to use it since his only other option was Leo’s bubble bath.
She continued to chop up the peppers much more carefully now, because, for some reason, her fingers had a slight shake to them. She had a small pile of red, green and yellow peppers, and even jalapeños on the cutting board to add to the mushrooms, diced homegrown tomatoes and shredded cheese she was going to use in the omelets she planned on making.
While he showered, she had also picked some fresh parsley and chives from her small collection of herb pots.
She had a full pot of coffee made, but her mug sat ignored at her elbow. Her stomach had been too busy doing flips to risk adding caffeine to it.
The whole time he was upstairs, she found it difficult to concentrate. Mostly because she had to keep talking herself out of joining him.
But she’d been strong enough to resist. She was proud she’d managed to talk herself out of it at least fifty times.
Now, he stood in her kitchen.
She began to beat the eggs in the bowl with a fork and added a bit of salt and pepper. “Coffee’s ready. Mugs are in the cabinet above the coffeemaker.”
No answer. Had he left the kitchen?
She glanced over her shoulder and, once again, it felt like someone kicked her in the solar plexus.
Of course, he wouldn’t have anything to change into. So, of course, he would only be wearing... a... damn... towel.
And, of course, it wasn’t like she had anything to offer him to wear. He certainly wouldn’t fit in a pair of Leo’s Iron Man Underoos.
No, because between seeing him in those damp clingy shorts and now a damp clingy towel, she knew one hundred percent he could not fit.
She turned back to stare at the cutting board, heat flickering at her center, her nipples pebbling painfully. Her body a complete traitor.
She should’ve run up those fucking stairs.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” she muttered under her breath.
“Doing what?”
She jumped because she didn’t think he’d be able to hear her. When he asked that question, his warm breath had slid over her skin, making her shiver. He was right behind her.
Right.
Behind.
Her.
His heat beat against her back, even though they weren’t even touching.
“What am I doing?” he asked so softly and so close to her ear, she almost melted into a puddle at his feet.
Tempting me, that’s what you’re doing. And you know it.
Think before you act, Frankie. Think!
“Sorry for only wearing a towel to breakfast, but my shorts are still sweaty, and I didn’t want to put them back on until they dry.” His voice was deep, low, masculine.
He wasn’t sorry.
But then... neither was she.
She gripped the edge of the counter to keep herself from turning around. Because if she did, they would be toe to toe.
Chest to chest.
Skin to skin.
Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth and biting down hard, she stifled a groan.
She was stupid to let him stay for breakfast.
But she owed him. She owed him big time. Not just for damaging his vehicle, but because he might remove any threat of Taz from her and Leo’s life.
And that right there was priceless.
She would do almost anything for that.
His arm brushed against her as he reached for her mug. “Do you want me to heat up your coffee?”
“No,” she managed to say, still staring at the wood cutting board.
She warred with herself. This thinking before acting shit was for the birds.
“No? You like your coffee cold?”
“No,” she murmured again.
Okay, she thought about it and now it was time to act.
“No,” she said again and turned. “No point in heating it up. It’ll only get cold again.”
As his brows furrowed and he opened his mouth—probably to ask what the fuck she was talking about—she surged forward the few inches separating them. She grabbed his face and closed her eyes just as she caught his surprised expression. And then smothered his “Frankie” with her mouth against his.
He fell back a half-step, but she went with him, sealing their lips together more firmly, sweeping her tongue into his mouth. Letting her left hand slip from his cheek to his warm, hairless chest. Her right hand slid from his other cheek, down his throat and she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, keeping him right where she wanted him.
It seeped into her brain that he wasn’t kissing her back, he wasn’t touchi
ng her, his arms hung by his sides, his mouth remained motionless.
But with her palm pressed to his chest, she could feel his thundering heartbeat and his quickness of breath.
She stilled, then stepped back, heat climbing into her face. “I’m sorry... I... It’s been... You...”
Nothing she could say would make it better. She just molested the man in her kitchen. She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she stared at his chest instead until she realized that wasn’t a good idea, either.
She began to move away but he snagged her wrist and pulled her back until she was standing in front of him, her ass pressed against the counter.
“I don’t want you to pay me back this way. I won’t accept sex as payment.”
What? Her mouth opened, and her breath hissed out. Is that what he thought?
“That wasn’t my intent,” she whispered. “I would never sell myself like that. I would rather work two jobs to pay you back before doing something of that nature.”
He tucked a hand along her jawline, his fingers sliding into her hair. “I just didn’t want you to feel obligated.”
“This has nothing to do with obligations.” It had to do with silky shorts, and damp towels, defined muscles, a large tribal tattoo, lips she wanted to taste, a deep voice she wanted whispering words into her ear, and light brown eyes that didn’t miss a thing. All of that and more which made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
One of his dark eyebrows rose. “No?”
She shook her head, staring into those eyes which seemed capable of swallowing her whole.
Her tongue swept along her bottom lip and his eyes followed the movement.
“I only came here for breakfast. I swear.”
She believed him because he had no idea Leo wouldn’t be home.
But the point was, Leo wasn’t home, and they were two adults standing in her kitchen and he was only wearing a towel.
She was interested, so if he was... Would there be any harm?
Probably.
It probably would be a big mistake.
She had thought the same thing with Taz and look where it landed her. As a single mother who worried about her son’s safety. She had to change her name to “hide” from the man she so stupidly got involved with because she didn’t think there would be any harm in it.
“I should be making breakfast,” she murmured, hoping that reminder would knock some sense into her.
“I said I liked spicy foods, loquilla, but it’s not the only thing I enjoy spicy.”
She should groan and roll her eyes at that, but she didn’t. Instead, his words made the heat swirl through her even faster.
He suddenly released her and stepped back. “But breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
She blinked.
He grinned and tipped his head to concentrate on re-securing the knot holding his towel together.
Frankie wasn’t sure what happened next.
If anyone had been watching, they might have said she rushed him and knocked him backwards. And they might have witnessed him grab her around the waist before they both landed hard on the floor with a grunt, his head narrowly missing the corner of a chair. Then Frankie could have scrambled to straddle his waist, which he didn’t fight... not one bit... before she took his mouth again.
They just might have seen all of that.
However, this time they both groaned when their tongues tangled and clashed. Frankie kept hold of his face as Hunter held onto hers, neither wanting to break the kiss.
He tasted like toothpaste, and she vaguely wondered how or why he brushed his teeth.
But, at the moment, she really didn’t care. What she did care about was that he was a great kisser. Every time she took control, he stole it back.
Every time she tried to pull away, to catch her breath, to pick her scattered brain cells off the floor, he held on tighter.
Yes, there was no doubt he wanted what she did.
Unfortunately, that made keeping her head on straight and thinking rationally before she did something stupid even more difficult.
And the last thing she wanted was to become the single mother of two children.
Even though she and Taz had used protection, it obviously hadn’t been a hundred percent reliable. Which, in the end, got her in the predicament she was currently in...
Straddling a practically naked man, who she only met the day before, on the floor of her fucking kitchen.
The man who was only there to help clean up her mess from another man.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
But, dammit, she couldn’t stop kissing him. And now his hands where sliding up her bare thighs and burrowing into her PJ shorts. She did a quick mental check on when the last time she had done a little landscaping down there and couldn’t remember.
She only hoped his fingers didn’t become lost in a forest.
But, hey, it had been a long time since anyone had seen that part of her besides her gynecologist. So, whatever. He could deal with it. If he couldn’t, he could eat his breakfast elsewhere.
Hopefully, he was a man who didn’t mind fighting his way through a little overgrowth. Not to mention, she hadn’t had a chance to shower or brush her teeth yet.
Since he was still kissing her, she took that as a good sign.
Maybe he was desperate like her and hadn’t gotten any in a while. Though, as she pictured him in those shorts, she couldn’t imagine he didn’t have women throwing themselves at him.
Like she had.
And was still doing.
She felt no shame because—
Yes, because he was now drawing a finger through her wetness. She shifted forward, encouraging him to do more, all still without breaking the kiss. Because if he released her mouth, she was going to start begging him to take her right there on the worn linoleum floor of her tiny kitchen and it would not be pretty.
He pulled back just enough to say against her lips, “Fuck, Frankie, you normally get this wet?”
Fuck no! But then, I’ve never tackled a man who looked like you.
In reality, she wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Sex had been the last thing on her mind for the past few years as she struggled to raise her son by herself.
At least, until Hunter showed up at her door this morning. Now, sex was all she could think about.
Especially once he slipped two fingers inside of her. And then his thumb did some wicked things to her clit.
His other hand had slid under her pajama shorts and now clutched her ass. Each fingertip dug into her flesh like he was clinging for dear life.
Maybe he was.
She planted her palms on his chest and pushed herself upright, her knees on the floor taking most of her weight.
Oh, wait. She forgot something...
With a grin, she leaned over again and sucked one of his small dark nipples into her mouth, causing his hips to surge upward. She finished with a scrape of her teeth over the tiny hard tip and then did the same to the other one.
Fuck yes, this was the breakfast of champions.
She face-planted into his chest as his long fingers slid in and out, drawing even more wetness from her. His chest rumbled when he groaned, “Fuck, Frankie.”
She assumed that was a good, “Fuck, Frankie.” But he needed to lose the comma so it became “fuck Frankie” and soon. They needed to move this along.
Even with her body like rubber, she managed to sit up again. His eyes were dark and glued to her, so she grabbed the hem of her tank top and yanked it over her head, tossing it behind her.
“Fuck, Frankie,” he murmured again, his gaze dropping to her breasts.
Was that all he could say?
“Yes, please,” she answered.
His brown eyes flicked up to hers, a frown creasing his forehead. “I’m not prepared.”
She peered over her shoulder to the towel that was now cockeyed and tented.
Um, yes, he was.
Then it
hit her. Oh fuck.
Unless he normally tucked one into his sneaker when he went for a run, he had no condom.
Oh fuckity fuck. She did a quick mental inventory of her nightstand drawer. Of her linen closet. Of the medicine cabinet.
Of course, she had no fucking condoms! What was the point of them if you weren’t having sex? Use them as expensive water balloons?
She face-planted again onto his chest and bit back a frustrated scream.
Then his body shook beneath her.
She lifted her head just enough to see his face. “This isn’t funny.”
“You didn’t think before you acted... again.”
“Shut up,” she muttered. “You had the same idea.”
“Yeah, but I’d expect you would be prepared. It’s your house.”
She hissed, “I don’t have sex.”
He hesitated before asking, “Never?”
“Not with another human being and not since Leo was conceived.”
His fingers stopped working their magic, which made her want to scream again. “There are ways around our predicament.”
“Yes, but that’s like eating apple pie without the vanilla ice cream.”
“I eat apple pie without the ice cream,” he said in a serious tone.
She stared at him. “You don’t look like you eat any pie.”
“I eat pie,” he confirmed, the lines around his eyes crinkling more.
That was encouraging because she had a pie he could eat. “As you can tell, I eat the pie and the ice cream.”
“And I like women who like to eat. I want a woman’s thighs to be soft when I’m lying between them. I don’t want them to be able to break me in two.”
“Mine are definitely soft.”
“I know. They’re hugging my waist.” He slipped his hands from her PJ bottoms and squeezed her upper thighs. “I also don’t like when a woman shaves her pussy bare.”
“You’re safe there.”
His lips twitched. “I figured that out on my own.”
She pressed a finger to his lips, quieting him. “Let’s not go there. I just said I haven’t had sex in forever.”
“And I would love to break that streak for you, but not without protection.”
Damn. “You could borrow my car and hit the Old Towne Pharmacy,” she suggested.
“That I could, though they might not appreciate me shopping in a towel.”
Guts & Glory: Hunter (In the Shadows Security Book 3) Page 8