Page 30 of Dare To Kiss You
“Wait a minute, are you telling me not only are you hot, sweet, funny, and good in bed, but you cook as well? Be still my beating heart,” I say, pretending to swoon into a chair.
Hunter shoots me a grin over his shoulder. “I’ll be honest, there’s only a few things in life I would say I’m really good at, but cooking is one of them.” He lifts a pan off the stove and dishes something onto two plates. He sprinkles something on top, then carries them over to the table and sets them down with a flourish. “Seafood and vegetable paella. Voilà.”
I close my eyes, letting out a small moan as the scent of seafood, tomatoes, and spices hits me. “Oh my God, this smells incredible.” When my eyes flutter open, he’s staring at me with such intensity, I gasp.
“Dinner first. Then I’m going to feast on you for dessert, Kitty Kat,” he growls, and I gasp again, this time louder. He leans over me, crowding me on the chair, but I don’t feel closed in; I feel surrounded, protected, and adored. “I honestly don’t know how I stayed away for so long once you were single. Everything about you is perfect and so damn irresistible.” His lips find mine, and the kiss is surprisingly soft and sweet, at odds with the intensity of his position and energy.
I thread my arms around his neck and pull him closer, deepening the kiss. “Good thing we came to our senses, huh?”
His tongue plunges into my mouth, tangling with mine as our kiss grows sloppy, desperate, needy.
I could kiss this man for hours and never tire of the feel of him, the taste. The sounds he makes, they’re so full of satisfaction — and anticipation — it’s the ultimate feminine power trip knowing I can affect him so strongly.
Somehow, and I don’t know if I’m disappointed or impressed, Hunter finds the restraint and control he needs to pull back, putting some space between us. But just when I think he’s going to follow through with the meal, he surprises me.
“Damn it. Fuck dinner.”
I get no other warning before Hunter’s hands are on my waist, and he’s lifting me out of the chair and spinning me around before setting me down on the counter. His eyes are burning with need as he tugs at the hem of my pants.
“Lift.”
I scoot forward and lift my butt up just long enough for him to pull my pants and underwear down. Then he drops into a crouch, his hands going to my inner thighs and pushing my legs apart. I’m being manhandled, and I am definitely okay with it. I’ve never been with a guy like Hunter, who seems to instinctually know what I want and need, and whose wants and needs match mine so perfectly.
He breathes in deeply, his thumbs sliding up my inner thighs, closer and closer to my core. “You’re glistening. Such a pretty pussy, so ready for me.”
“God, yes,” I whisper. “So ready. Please.”
His eyes twinkle as he grins. “I’ve got you, Kitty Kat.”
“I need you to…” I start to say, my voice coming out a whine that turns into another gasp as he presses his thumb right onto my clit. “Oh my God. That.”
My head falls back against the cabinets with a thunk as he finally leans down and I feel the warmth of his mouth cover my sex. His tongue swirls around, dipping in and out, as his thumb lazily circles my clit, tightening it into a stiff nub.
The kitchen is silent except for the sounds of him eating me out, feasting as he said he would, and my moans and gasps of appreciation.
When he invited me over for dinner, I hoped we’d end up in bed; I’m insatiable for him. But I never expected to be the first course.
Moments later, my orgasm is rocketing through my body as Hunter pins me down to the counter, sucking every drop out of me. His groans and growls reverberate through my body, extending my release until I finally sag against the cabinets, completely spent.
I open my eyes to see him rise to standing, and I drop my gaze down to the obvious bulge in his pants. Licking my lips, I slowly slide off the counter, my pants still down around my ankles. I reach for him, but he steps back.
“No. Dinner.”
I arch my brow. “Really?”
Hunter nods, then walks stiffly over to the table, sitting down gingerly before gesturing to my chair. “Yep. I didn’t slave over this meal for it to go to waste because I can’t keep my hands or mouth off you.” He winks, and I slowly make my way to my seat. “You just ended up an appetizer instead of dessert.” He cocks his head to one side, as if he’s thinking deeply. “Or maybe your pussy can be both. Yeah, I think that works. Sweet and salty, and fucking delicious.”
My jaw drops at the filthy words coming out of his mouth, as Hunter casually picks up his wine and takes a sip, his eyes twinkling at me over the glass.
“Eat up, Kitty Kat.” His voice takes on a gravelly edge.
Still in a daze, I pick up my fork and take a bite. Even though the food has cooled, the flavours still explode on my tongue. “This is delicious. Who taught you to cook?”
I see him hesitate for the briefest of moments before answering.
“Actually, it was a high school home economics class. At least that’s what they called it back then. Our teacher was this amazing woman who sat us all down on day one and told us she didn’t care what we thought about domestic duties, everyone — boys and girls alike — needed to know how to sew on a button and prepare a complete meal. And if she caught anyone saying anything different, they’d be on dish duty for the whole term.” He chuckles at the memory, smiling fondly. “We started with the basics, and I fell in love with cooking. It was easy to experiment, and pretty soon I was making dinner at home several nights a week. My mom was thrilled, and she and I decided that once a month we would make something totally unique and different. This paella was one of our earlier creations, and I’ve perfected it over the years.”
“Wow. That’s an amazing story,” I say quietly after he finishes talking. I feel like I’ve been given the smallest of windows into Hunter’s past, and it makes me realize just how little I know about his life before he moved to Dogwood Cove. He knows so much more about me, simply because of who my family is around here. But he’s a mystery. One I desperately want to solve.
