Page 14 of A Mustang River Christmas

“Close to a year. And I was just with the one guy for five years so it’s been a long, long time since I was with someone new.”

Did he admit how long it had been for him? It was borderline embarrassing. But, radical honesty. There was no sidestepping it.

“Well, nearly a year isn’t ten years, is it?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, fuck. Come on.” He watched as she realized, slowly, that he was deadly serious. “You have to be kidding me.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“You’re... you’re a born-again virgin. Which, I’m not…there’s nothing wrong with it. I’m not shaming you or anything.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Then he reached his hand up and wrapped his hands around both her wrists, drawing her close to him. “I can’t be shamed, Laney. You ought to know that right out the gate.” He leaned in, his mouth so close to hers he could taste her. “I’m not anything close to a virgin,” he said, releasing one wrist and wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, drawing her firmly up against his body. “Trust me. What I am is a man who lost himself. Lost his control, lost his restraint. But guess what.” He grinned at her, knowing that the grin was laced with danger, “I found it. Trust me when I tell you, I am a man with a steady hand. A man of precision. I always weigh out my ingredients, because it’s the right thing to do, but I can look and tell if I have the correct weight of flour. Just the right amount of sugar. I know exactly how much I need to work the dough to make sure that I have perfect lamination, and I know that because I have experience. Instinct. Time away from the kitchen hasn’t changed that. And do you know what else I’m good at?”

“What?” She was looking at him with large, shining eyes, her breath coming in short bursts. Her voice, a whisper.

“I can look at you and know exactly how close you are. And it’s pretty damn close. I know just how to take a woman right to the edge, and when to back off. I know just how much to work you. Just where to touch you. And by the end of the night, you’ll be saying yes, Chef, to me.”

He thought that she might melt into a puddle at his feet, and damn it all, if he didn’t feel good because he still had that. But with her, it was different. With her, it mattered more. With her, he knew he was going up against a connoisseur. An alpha. A woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. If he was the precision pastry chef, then she was the passionate cook who did everything by feel.

And he knew that could be deadly to him.

He couldn’t wait.

She moved toward him, cupped his face and kissed him.

Then whimpered as he backed her up against the wall, luxuriating in the press of her body against his.

She moaned, her head falling back, and he angled his head, kissing his way down her neck. He loved this. Loved the taste of her, of her skin.

He needed to taste her everywhere. And he was going to. But first he needed to see her. All of her.

She was wearing a casual black top and a pair of black pants, her white coat discarded somewhere in the kitchen. But she was about to lose it all, because he couldn’t wait another second to get her naked.

He’d been trying not to fantasize about her. Trying not to obsess about her and how much he wanted her. He’d been trying to just get on with things as they’d been for the last ten years.

But he couldn’t.

And right now he was damn glad of that.

He gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head, throwing it onto the floor. Then he made quick work of her bra, his breath hissing through his teeth as he got a good look at her.

She was inked, from the top of her shoulder down to just below her elbow, and along the left side of her body, creeping vines that went down her rib cage, and disappeared beneath the waistband of her pants.

“How far down does the ink go?” he asked, breathing hard.

She smiled, a little bit playful, some of that confidence coming back, where only a moment ago she had been all need. “You’re going to have to keep going to find out.”

“Don’t challenge me, Laney. I’ll explore every bit of ink on your body.”

“Good,” she said.

He undid the button on her pants, pushed them down her hips and took her underwear along with them.

The sound he made was more beast than man when he got a good look at her.

Her wide hips, the trail of flowers that went all the way down her leg.

The blonde curls right there at the apex of her thighs. He wanted to bite that thigh. And hell, he was going to. After he tasted the rest of her. He wrapped his arms around her, planted his palms on her back, drew her forward as he sucked one nipple deep into his mouth.