by Linda Kage
Wait up. Had he just said… I’ll cook? And also picnic in bed? Was this guy my spirit animal? In that moment, I swear I loved him more than I loved bacon. Or chocolate. Like, if all three of Ezra, bacon, and chocolate were rolling off a cliff at the same time, I’d dive to save him first.
My petrified expression of shock caused him to chuckle… One of those really sexy, low-pitch, make-your-ovaries-tremble-with-glee chuckles.
“Come on.” He returned to the bed and took my arm, manually helping me sit up. “You can still move, right?”
I wasn’t sure. “I think.” To test it, I lifted one arm before letting it fall limply back into my lap. “Kind of.”
My reaction amused him; he laughed again. “Here.” He picked up his white V-neck undershirt from the floor only to tug it over my head. “You wear this, or I’ll get distracted and burn all the food.”
“’Kay,” I said, gazing up at him in absolute adoration, because seriously, was he even real?
Maybe everything since the night of the Halloween party had been one elaborate, too-good-to-be-true dream. Yeah. I bet when I’d gone down the stairs into my old workroom to save Jacqueline, I’d forgotten about that low-hanging pipe and I’d hit my head. I was probably still lying on the cold metal stairs in some kind of coma. Lord, I hope someone found me soon. The idea of Uncle Bru having to clean up all the blood that was no-doubt seeping from my head wound was kind of worrisome.
Other than that, I was actually fine with staying right there, in coma land.
With Ezra.
“Kaitlynn?” A sexy male hand waved in front of my face. Then his face appeared in front of me, his blue eyes squinted with concern. “You still with me, Yellow?”
I nodded, only to answer, “I dunno. I think maybe you fucked me stupid.”
He laughed.
I seriously loved his laugh.
Hooking his hands under my armpits, he answered, “Not possible. You’re still too adorably witty to be stupid yet. But maybe after a few more rounds…” He shrugged and grinned, insinuating that anything was possible.
Hauling me up, he hoisted me over his shoulder, like literally, over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Any food recommendation for the cook?” he asked, starting from the room and smacking his palm against my bare, exposed butt.
“Uh…” I said, still too discombobulated by what was happening.
“Good,” he cut in before I could even think up an answer. “Because I really only know how to cook one thing anyway. It was the only thing my mom knew how to cook, and she taught me the trade.”
We entered the kitchen where he gently lowered me to sit on the kitchen counter, pausing to kiss the end of my nose before he turned away to open the refrigerator.
I wiggled a bit so the back of his shirt covered my tush and I wasn’t sitting directly on cold Formica, but otherwise I remained where he left me, content to watch him do his thing and super curious about this overly-cheerful, good mood he seemed to be in.
“So your mom didn’t cook much?” I asked, eager to learn everything I could about him and his family and childhood.
He appeared from behind the refrigerator door, still wearing nothing but boxer shorts and holding a tub of butter along with a package of American cheese slices.
“Nah,” he answered, closing the door with his hip since his hands were full. “We had a cook—Mrs. Pan—who was like a miracle worker in the kitchen. Mom spent most of her time at the office with Dad. She had this knack for working the stock market and making money. And Dad could take what she earned and put it into the physical stuff, you know, buying companies and making profits from them. God…” He paused at the counter with a nostalgic smile as he shook his head. “They made an awesome business team. I didn’t really realize how awesome of a team they made until I started working at JFI.”
I watched his smile die when he focused on the butter tub and cheese he’d set on the counter beside me. The way he missed his mother was practically tangible. I wondered if I touched his skin in that moment, would I actually feel the ache?
Because I wanted to share it with him, I reached out and set my hand on his forearm. He glanced at me sharply.
“You miss her a lot.”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded rusty, so he cleared it and glanced away, wiping his hands on his hips. “It’s hard not to. She was the best. Where do you keep your bread?”
I patted his arm gently before pointing toward a cabinet across the room. “In there.”
He smiled at me as if thanking me for the comfort, only to remove my hand from him, then kiss my knuckles and set them in my lap. Then he left me to retrieve the bread.
“All you have is wheat bread?” he asked a moment later, pulling the loaf from the cabinet and facing me with a cringe.
“What?” I shrugged defensively. “It’s healthier.”
“Uh huh. Is that why it’s sitting next to cheese puffs, chocolate bars, sugar cookies, and a bag of Doritos?”
“Hey, I gotta balance out somewhere.”
Laughing, he shook his head. “Just when I think you can’t get any cuter,” he murmured, returning to me before asking where the butter knives were stored.
I merely swung my feet and grinned, feeling good—feeling great—as I watched him hunt through my drawers until he found a knife. Seriously, who knew watching a man navigate his way around my kitchen would be so hot? Maybe it was the shirtless, pantless aspect that made it so nice. But I sure did enjoy the show.
He found a pan in the warming drawer under the oven and set it on the stove before turning the heat up. The bending-down-to-fetch-it was my favorite part. But I also got a little mesmerized with watching his back muscles shift and bunch after he straightened and reached for the heating knobs. I figured I had it really bad when I even enjoyed the bulge in his arms when he used the non-stick spray to grease the bottom of the pan.
My tongue came out to wet the surface of my lips, because oh yeah, no one made cooking look quite as delicious as Ezra Nash did.
“So Broderick worked you overtime again tonight, huh?” he asked conversationally as he washed his hands before opening the bread bag.
I nodded, distracted by the meticulous way he covered the counter with paper towels and set down each piece of bread on them, one beside the other in a neat row.
“Yeah, uh, we’ve been working on the Purses portfolio we have to present on Friday. Finally finished it this evening.”
Ezra paused from buttering the bread to raise his eyebrows my way. “Really? Already? That’s awesome. I doubt my department will have the Jackets portfolio finished until late tomorrow. I swear, I was about to strangle two members on my team until they finally compromised on an idea this morning. And it was because of patches on elbows of all things.”
“Oh! I think I met them in the elevator,” I announced brightly before knitting my brow. “But they didn’t seem that at-odds about it. After I made a little suggestion, they seemed totally willing to work together.”
“Wait.” Ezra stopped buttering to point his knife at me, his eyes wide with shock. “Were you the woman who fixed their fight?” Suddenly, he gripped my face in both hands and kissed me on the lips with a quick, hard peck. “Oh my God, babe. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. They’d been fighting nonstop for over a week about it, and then suddenly, they returned from a smoke break and everything was fine again. Said some lady they met in the elevator put it all in perspective for them.”
“Uh… Maybe that wasn’t me, then,” I tried. “I mean, I barely said anything. Just that it wouldn’t hurt anything to try it one way. It could always be changed if it didn’t work.”
“I have no idea what you said, but it freaking worked. You are a kickass mediator.”
“Well…” I flushed and ducked my head, not sure how to take such a compliment. “I’ve actually enjoyed working with everyone in Purses on our portfolio,” I added, totally changing the subject. “I was so proud of how it turned out; I had to scan all th
e pages and save PDF files as a keepsake.” I laughed at my own silliness. “I’m such a sentimental sap.”
“I think it’s sweet,” he said, nudging my arm with his before he finished buttering the bread and then put the cheese sandwiches together.
“That reminds me,” I told him, not sure how any of this made me think of what I suddenly remembered. “Lana knows I’m working at JFI again.”
Ezra stopped piling bread to turn to me, his gaze serious and eyes dark with concern. “She knows? Everything?”
“Not about us, I’m sure,” I reassured. “But she stormed Brick’s office and threatened him.” I filled him in on all the women who had shown up not long after that.
Ezra gave a low whistle. “Wow, poor Carmichael. She’s definitely one vindictive woman.”
I nodded, though at the moment, my stepmother was the last concern on my mind. I was too content to be here, right in this moment with Ezra.
After he finished making our grilled cheese sandwiches, burning one side because we got a little too carried away making out during the wait, we returned to my room, where we fed each other, laughing over dripped cheese and toast crumbs. Then we spent the rest of the night talking, sleeping, and exploring each other’s bodies.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Have you ever had one of those mornings where you woke up and everything just felt right? The best amount of cushion possible was molded around you, the perfect covers on top, pillow fitted just so under your head, the temperature of the room excellent, and you’d slept a good, solid deep sleep? Then your alarm ruins it all, and you groan because you want to keep lying there, just like that, without moving a muscle, for the rest of eternity?
Yeah, it was one of those mornings, for sure.
My eyes flickered open. I stared at the wall of my room for a moment, feeling rested and relaxed. A slow smile started and then, boom, the alarm shrieked out this totally unnecessary and increasingly annoying racket, making something grumble in complaint right into my ear before a warm weight draped across my stomach shifted.
I squeaked. Totally didn’t scream, because I’m not a screamer, but there was a definite noise of alarm that escaped. And I gave a little jump, too, plus I might’ve also gasped, “Oh God. I forgot you were here.”
After not sharing a bed with anyone, ever, I was used to waking up alone. So this… This was new. Not at all bad, but definitely new.
The body curled up behind mine shook as he began to chuckle. And suddenly, I couldn’t decide which was worse: the alarm clock that continued to beep, or Ezra laughing at me.
Lunging across the mattress, I slapped the snooze button. Then I flopped onto my back and winced up at the ceiling, feeling a little sore and a lot too-awkward to face him. Because last night, last night had been perfect. What if I looked at him now and everything was just all wrong? I couldn’t handle all-wrong after a perfect night.
“Is that my cue to leave?” he asked, somewhat cautiously.
“What? No!” Worried I’d made him feel unwanted, I rolled to face him. “No, no, no. That’s not at all what I—oh. Oh, wow.”
Bright blue eyes twinkled in the morning sunlight as he rested his cheek on my pillow—need to repeat that one more time…rested his cheek on MY pillow!!—and watched me.
Dark eyebrows crinkled over those blue eyes. “What?” he asked, confusion lining his curious gaze.
“Morning scruff,” I uttered. It was so hot. So beautiful. Want to touch the morning scruff. And then, because my mind was still not working properly, I kept mumbling totally not-cool bits of randomness.
“Lips.” His looked extra plush and kissable surrounded by all that hot morning scruff.
“Golden-muscled man skin,” I said next, my gaze catching on the tops of his bare shoulders. Temptation to touch it all tingled out the ends of my fingers.
With another laugh, Ezra swooped up over me and rolled me onto my back to fit himself on top of me, his smile stretching wide and eyes dancing with amusement. It was so graceful and predatory I caught my breath, gaping up at him. His hips settled naturally between mine with the growing bulge in his boxers aligning perfectly where I wanted it most. He pressed his erection tighter against me, and his glorious golden man skin felt soft and warm and durable as it slid against mine.
A whimper escaped my lips.
His grin was slow and smug. “I’ll take that to mean you don’t mind if I stay a bit longer, then.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered, reaching up slowly to cup his scruffy cheek in my palm. “You can’t be real. Too perfect to be real.”
With his eyes still twinkling with delight, he leaned in and kissed me. And those lips. Dear God. They should come with a warning. Too hot to handle first thing in the morning. Easing closer, he opened his mouth and, bam, I groaned, sliding my body under his without realizing what I was really doing, just needing friction, more friction everywhere. He tasted good. Too good. The turd must’ve gotten up sometime recently and gargled with my mouthwash or something, because no morning breath could ever possibly taste this good.
Oh hell. What if my morning breath was atrocious? What if—
His hands came out to play, skimming up my arms, cupping my face, slipping into my hair and tearing me from any self-conscious thought I’d been trying to entertain. I arched under him forgetting about… Well, whatever I’d been thinking. His tongue disconnected with mine so he could sprinkle kisses from my lips to my jaw, then my throat. Then his touch moved on, catching on the backs of my thighs and sliding up under my night shirt.
“You are so damn soft,” he growled against my throat, the breath in his words, making my skin prickle with unceasing delight. “How are you this soft?”
“Man hands,” was all I could sigh as he used his to slip under the edge of my panties and curve over my ass.
He stopped nibbling on my collarbone so he could grin up into my eyes. “You like them?” he asked, using both his hands to squeeze a cheek each. “This feel real enough to you yet, Yellow? Or maybe I need to do this?”
He slid a finger into me from behind.
“Oh my God.” My entire body arched up, my chest bumping into his.
Ezra caught my hair with one hand and held on, forcing me to keep my neck arched back as he stroked me twice before adding a second finger. I gasped from the added pressure, squirming under him, not sure my body could handle such a blissful assault.
“I love watching your expressions when I touch you,” he purred, his voice heavy with sleep and seduction. “You always look so shocked, like you’ve never experienced pleasure before.”
Biting my lip, I slid my gaze his way. “I haven’t. Not like… Oh! Never like this.”
His smile was smug and victorious. “You definitely do my ego good.” He leaned in until his lips were a breath away from mine before adding, “It makes me want to please you more.”
I nodded dumbly. “O… Okay.”
He kissed me mid-laugh, the sensation vibrating through my mouth and tasting like pure joy. I swallowed it whole and dove my tongue in for more. I swear, this man’s mouth was magic. How he knew what my lips would enjoy the most I had no idea, but I appreciated it. I appreciated it so much.
The two fingers stroking inside me pulled free, making me grumble out a whiny protest. And then his mouth left mine, making me scowl even more.
But he only winked as he sat upright on his knees above me. “Gotta make sure you still taste as good as you feel,” was all he said before he gathered up the hem of my nightshirt and tore it up over my head.
Which left us both stripped down to everything but underwear. My gaze crawled down his golden chest and over sculpted abs to settle on the tent sprouting from his shorts. Licking my lips, I reached out, unable to resist.
But he caught my wrist and grinned wickedly. “You first.”
A small frown puckered my brow. I thought I had been trying to go first and touch what I wanted. Except, he didn’t let me touch anything. Keeping hold of my wrist,
he got control of the other and pinned them both to the bed on either side of my face before he leaned over me to pluck one of my nipples into his mouth. From then on, I decided to forgive him for taking it into his own mind who went first.
He sucked and flicked his tongue like a master, and then he gave me a long, slow, wicked lick, making me feel it pretty much everywhere I had nerve endings, and some places I didn’t even know I had nerve endings. My body writhed under him as he worked one breast and then the other, until I wished I had about five more boobs he could keep sucking.
His fingers lost their grip on my wrists so they could wander down the most sensitive inside parts of my arms, up over my shoulders, across my ribs, then dipping into my waist before latching on my hip bones. He gripped as he began to kiss his way south, slowly, methodically, expertly. He peeled my panties away until I was nothing but bare, throbbing, naked woman before him.
When his breath mixed with my pubic hair, my toes curled. I glanced at the top of his thick crop of dark hair, unable to take a proper breath just as he glanced up and met my gaze. Then he wetted his lips with his tongue and leaned forward to flick that same tongue between my legs, all while his too-blue eyes remained locked on mine.
I couldn’t handle it. I bucked up, gripping the sheets under me, and had to transfer my attention to the ceiling. It’d been too much to watch him watching me, while he’d been… While he was…
He lifted his mouth. “I want those eyes back on mine, Kaitlynn. Come on, Yellow, give me those gorgeous eyes.”
My traitorous little peepers fell victim to his command and pulled my gaze back to him.
Grinning as soon as he got his way, Ezra licked me again before pressing the flat of his tongue against my quivering core.
Shuddering, I pushed my hips up, nudging myself against his mouth more firmly, no shame, no poise or sophistication, just the mindless search for more. A gruff sound of pleasure growled its way from his throat before his fingers were back inside me, stroking boldly, demanding a response. My body was helpless but to reply, surging against his decree and answering his wordless directive one ripple of euphoria at a time.
