him too jutted boldly into her upper belly.
Well, hello, reality check . She was kissing the stuffing out of Shaye’s brother in her kitchen . With Zoe and Jade in the next room . She squeezed her thighs together and peeled her fingers off Ben’s shoulders. Before she could push him away he pulled his mouth from hers.
Someone moaned low and lustfully in protest, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t Ben.
Speaking of mortification…
Chapter 5
Ben wanted to wrap around Kezia like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. Though his motiv ations weren’t as noble as survival, they were just as primal.
He’d like to scoop her back into his arms, plant her shapely ass on the counter, and kiss her again until she let loose another symphony of sexy little moans. Kiss her until they both couldn’t breathe. Until the luscious secrets her mouth held didn’t drive him crazy.
But she slipped away from him, her face flushed and her dark chocolate eyes wide and shiny. Oh, shit—was she gonna cry?
Now look what you’ve done, you big dolt.
Ben reached to adjust his hard-on in his suddenly too-tight jeans, only to grab a handful of fabric. Damn apron! And kiss the cook? Well, he’d kissed her all right, but he’d managed to screw it up somehow.
Kezia crossed to the fridge and examined the co ntents as if memorizing them for a spot quiz.
The taste of her still slicked his lips, which didn’t help the bulge in his jeans. He hadn’t meant to take it further than a quick kiss to let her know the awareness between them had teeth. He hadn’t expected to be the one bitten—and bitten hard.
Ben reined the runaway lust back to a slow burn and cleared his throat. “Ah, Kezia? Do you want to talk ab—?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Hang on. Didn’t women get orgasmic pleasure going on and on about this kind of stuff? Examining, dissecting, chewing over how she felt, how he felt, how the whole universe felt? He hunched over, aiming for unthreatening and easy to talk to. Like one of his sisters. The girly ass apron sure helped. “Because you look kinda steamed.”
“I’m not steamed,” she said. “And we have dinner to make. Can you peel those carrots, please? The peeler’s in the top drawer.”
Un-frickin-believable. The most mind-altering kiss he’d had in…well, in too damn long—and the woman was talking about vegetables? Had he misread the heat combusting between them? Hell, he’d thought she’d enjoyed herself. “Right, carrots.”
He yanked open the drawer and found the peeler. Carrots, his ass. Ben raked the blades down the carrot’s length and nearly sliced a strip off his thumb.
“Finish the onions, then chop the carrots finely,” she said.
Cooking 101 for dummies. Maybe he should take a class on kissing hot Italian women, since apparently he sucked at it. Hah—women bitched about his inability to open up, but none had complained about the skill of his mouth. Or his hands. Or his dick.
And listening to the voice whine in his head like a little girl pissed him off.
Ben chopped the onions and carrots as if they had personally insulted his sexual stamina.
Kezia lit the gas ring under the pot and returned to the counter. Leaning forward, she clucked her tongue at the slices of carrot he’d dropped into a bowl.
“I said finely. That’s too chunky.”
Too chunky? He’d give her too chunky, he’d— “What the hell was wrong with our kiss?” The tips of his ears burned, but the words were out there, and he couldn’t stop running his mouth off. “Do I have bad breath? Did I drool on you or something?”
Kezia hot-footed over to the stove and swirled a stream of oil into the pot. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m in the mood for talking.”
She ignored him and picked up the chopping board, scraping off the onions into the hot oil.
“The kiss?” he prodded. “Didn’t you like it?”
Stirring with short, jerky strokes, Kezia speared him with her dark, cool gaze. A
Well, hello, reality check . She was kissing the stuffing out of Shaye’s brother in her kitchen . With Zoe and Jade in the next room . She squeezed her thighs together and peeled her fingers off Ben’s shoulders. Before she could push him away he pulled his mouth from hers.
Someone moaned low and lustfully in protest, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t Ben.
Speaking of mortification…
Chapter 5
Ben wanted to wrap around Kezia like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. Though his motiv ations weren’t as noble as survival, they were just as primal.
He’d like to scoop her back into his arms, plant her shapely ass on the counter, and kiss her again until she let loose another symphony of sexy little moans. Kiss her until they both couldn’t breathe. Until the luscious secrets her mouth held didn’t drive him crazy.
But she slipped away from him, her face flushed and her dark chocolate eyes wide and shiny. Oh, shit—was she gonna cry?
Now look what you’ve done, you big dolt.
Ben reached to adjust his hard-on in his suddenly too-tight jeans, only to grab a handful of fabric. Damn apron! And kiss the cook? Well, he’d kissed her all right, but he’d managed to screw it up somehow.
Kezia crossed to the fridge and examined the co ntents as if memorizing them for a spot quiz.
The taste of her still slicked his lips, which didn’t help the bulge in his jeans. He hadn’t meant to take it further than a quick kiss to let her know the awareness between them had teeth. He hadn’t expected to be the one bitten—and bitten hard.
Ben reined the runaway lust back to a slow burn and cleared his throat. “Ah, Kezia? Do you want to talk ab—?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Hang on. Didn’t women get orgasmic pleasure going on and on about this kind of stuff? Examining, dissecting, chewing over how she felt, how he felt, how the whole universe felt? He hunched over, aiming for unthreatening and easy to talk to. Like one of his sisters. The girly ass apron sure helped. “Because you look kinda steamed.”
“I’m not steamed,” she said. “And we have dinner to make. Can you peel those carrots, please? The peeler’s in the top drawer.”
Un-frickin-believable. The most mind-altering kiss he’d had in…well, in too damn long—and the woman was talking about vegetables? Had he misread the heat combusting between them? Hell, he’d thought she’d enjoyed herself. “Right, carrots.”
He yanked open the drawer and found the peeler. Carrots, his ass. Ben raked the blades down the carrot’s length and nearly sliced a strip off his thumb.
“Finish the onions, then chop the carrots finely,” she said.
Cooking 101 for dummies. Maybe he should take a class on kissing hot Italian women, since apparently he sucked at it. Hah—women bitched about his inability to open up, but none had complained about the skill of his mouth. Or his hands. Or his dick.
And listening to the voice whine in his head like a little girl pissed him off.
Ben chopped the onions and carrots as if they had personally insulted his sexual stamina.
Kezia lit the gas ring under the pot and returned to the counter. Leaning forward, she clucked her tongue at the slices of carrot he’d dropped into a bowl.
“I said finely. That’s too chunky.”
Too chunky? He’d give her too chunky, he’d— “What the hell was wrong with our kiss?” The tips of his ears burned, but the words were out there, and he couldn’t stop running his mouth off. “Do I have bad breath? Did I drool on you or something?”
Kezia hot-footed over to the stove and swirled a stream of oil into the pot. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m in the mood for talking.”
She ignored him and picked up the chopping board, scraping off the onions into the hot oil.
“The kiss?” he prodded. “Didn’t you like it?”
Stirring with short, jerky strokes, Kezia speared him with her dark, cool gaze. A
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