“So fucking sexy, love. But don’t do that again,” he says between kisses and I pull back, seeing his serious expression.

“You didn’t like my show? It was just for you.” He carries me over to the counter and sits me down on top of it, settling his body between my thighs. His hands run up my arms, brushing lightly over my shoulders and up my neck as he slowly traces my throat with his fingers.

“I loved your show. But I don’t like not being able to get to you. I was dying out there.” I smile and press my forehead against his as he trails his fingertips down my neck and over the top of my breasts. “You look beautiful by the way,” he says softly before pressing his lips firmly against mine. I open for him, allowing his tongue to softly dip into my mouth. His kisses aren’t urgent this time. They’re slow and lasting as if he’s savoring this moment with me. Swallowing my moans, his breath comes out in hot spurts and fills me with my favorite minty flavor. I press my chest against his as his hands wrap around my waist and slowly stroke my back, my hands clamped behind his neck. We both break away at the same time, our foreheads reclaiming their spot against each other’s and our uneven breathing surrounding us.

“Missed your face,” I say, regretting it instantly because he didn’t need to know that. Crap. I have an orgasm and drop my guard like an amateur.

“Just my face?” he asks playfully. He brushes my hair behind my ear and runs his fingers through the waves.

I shake my head and begin slowly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes close and a tiny sound of pleasure escapes him, making me smile. “I missed your face too,” he replies as he reopens his eyes and traces down the sides of my temples, across my cheekbones, and down to my lips where I kiss the tips of his fingers.

His words warm me the way they shouldn’t and I know I need to break this moment before I say something I really don’t want him to know. I wasn’t only weak when it came to sex around this man. He is slowly infiltrating every cut of my soul. “Want a tour?” His lips pull up in the corner and he steps back, holding out his hand to help me off the counter. I quickly drop my hand out of his before I become too familiar with the sensation and walk through the doorway that leads to the kitchen. Flipping on the lights, I walk around the large workbench, feeling him watch me from where he stands.

“Okay, so this is where I spend my time whipping up my fabulous creations and trying desperately not to eat them, which I usually fail at miserably.” I motion around the room and hear a soft laugh from his direction. “Storage, fridge, freezer, and oh shit.” I spot a bat of icing that I had made earlier this morning when I was testing out a new recipe. Grabbing the bowl that I had placed on the shelf, I stick my pinky finger into the hot pink frosting and slip it into my mouth.

“Mmm, yummy,” I say as I flick my eyes up to Reese who is perched against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s watching me with concentrated interest, which I’m beginning to notice is a pattern of his. “Oh, I found this recipe for chocolate peppermint frosting and had some extra time this morning to play around with it. Until I realized that I didn’t have extra time and I stupidly left it out.” I lick my lips and his eyes widen. “Wanna taste?”

“Sure,” he answers, moving towards the work station. I hop up on top of it and wait patiently for him to stand in front of me, as his hands rest lightly on my thighs.

I dip my finger into the frosting. “Open,” I command, holding my finger in front of his now slightly swollen lips. They curl up into a small smile before he opens his mouth, his tongue wrapping around my finger and pulling every last bit off. Jesus, he could probably get me ready for sex just by licking an envelope in front of me.

“Good?”

“Very, especially coming off you.”

“I love mint chocolate. I think it’s the perfect union of flavors.” I dip another finger into the frosting and pop it in my mouth as he licks his lips.

“I think you’re the perfect union of flavors,” he responds, causing me to grin even wider.

“Want some more?” I go to reach my finger into the bowl when he grabs it, taking the bowl out of my hands and placing it next to me on the work station. Dipping his own finger into the bowl, he runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he swipes the hot pink frosting down the side of my neck to my cleavage. I whimper as his tongue licks off the line of frosting that he’s drawn, paying extra attention to the dollop that is now dripping between my breasts.

“Lift your arms,” he whispers, grabbing the hem of my shirt and tugging it over my head after I obey him. His eyes enlarge and flick from my face to my shoulders, his face hardening instantly. Oh fuck.

“What the hell? What happened to you?” His fingers trail the small fingertip size bruises that graze over my shoulders and I wince at him. Moving my hair out of the way, he leans around me and I hear a soft grunt as he discovers the bruises on my upper back. Shit. I meant to keep my clothes on. This conversation could have been easily avoided. Damn him and his ability to cloud my judgment.

“Why the hell are you covered in bruises?” He moves back in front of me and eases in between my legs again, commanding my attention.

“Uh...” Do I tell him? What would he do? Would he go after Justin? Is that something your casual sex partner would do or is that strictly a boyfriend move? Did I want him to care?

“Dylan.”

My case of the word vomit suddenly rears her ugly head again. “Justin came by when I was loading Sam today to go deliver a wedding cake and he came on to me. He’d been drinking and he wouldn’t let go of me even though I was screaming at him and then he threw me up against Sam.” I watch his expression shift right in front of me to anger. His teeth clench tight, causing the muscles in his jaw to quiver and his nostrils flare. I move back a bit. Damn. Angry Reese is intimidating and sexy as hell.

“That asshole put his hands on you?”

“Yes but---”

“And who the fuck is Sam? Did he bring another guy with him?” He slams his hand down on the worktop next to my thigh and I jump. “They’re both fucking dead.” Turning away from me, I grab his shoulders and prevent his escape.

“Don’t, just wait a minute.” His eyes meet mine and he raises his brows. “Sam is my delivery van. Yes, I named it. It’s stupid, I know. And yes Justin did this but he’s never put his hands on me before. I don’t think he would’ve actually forced himself on me. He was probably just upset that his wife cheated on him.” What the fuck? Now I’m making excuses for that asshole? I run down his arms and pull his hands into my lap, squeezing them gently.

“Are you fucking serious?” His voice booms throughout the kitchen. “I don’t give a shit if he was drunk, upset, or whatever the fuck. He touched you, he’s dead.”

“Reese please, what would you do? You can’t hurt him. He could press charges against you. I mean, it’s not like its self-defense or something. Please just let it go. It really looks worse than it feels.” That is a complete lie. It hurts like hell. But I am absolutely terrified that Reese will end up getting into trouble over this and that will hurt a hell of a lot worse than the bruises.

He runs his hands down his face before he reaches out and holds mine, his expression softening. “You should have called me. Why didn’t you?” His thumbs stroke my cheeks as he studies me.