Page 63 of Never Pucking Ending

I wince. “Did he scratch you?”

“I almost lost a nipple, but I got lucky.”

Without meaning to, my eyes drop down to her chest as if I can see through her shirt. I wet my lips and lean my hips against the counter, forcing myself to look away and watch the cat pounce after a toy with a bell on it. “You called me his dad.”

The statement makes the pink on her cheeks darken when I briefly glance at her. “Oh. Uh…yeah. But it was innocent enough. A slip of the tongue, really.”

I make a noise, leaning down until my arms are resting on the edge of the counter. It brings me closer to where she’s standing, mere inches from her pajama-clad body. There’s flour on her shorts and matching top, like she reached to grab something and smeared it on herself without realizing.

I’m not sure what comes over me, but something snaps. My restraint. My filter. Whatever it is doesn’t stop the next words from coming out of my mouth.

“I’ve got to be honest, Bells,” I tell her quietly. “The thoughts I’ve been having haven’t been that innocent.”

She sucks in a breath, her eyes locked onto the food like she’s afraid to look at me. “Oh?”

I hum. Replaying the fantasy in my head of her bent over this very island makes me turn steel in my pants. I could make a mess out of us both if she’d let me.

“Is that…” She pauses, rubbing her lips together as she stares down at the yogurt container in front of her. “Is that your thing?”

I snicker at the question because it’s a loaded question and she has no idea. “Everything about you is ‘my thing’, Bells. That’s the fucking problem.” I walk over to her and crowd her space until she’s forced to look up at me. Arching my hips into her to emphasize my point, I take in the way her lips part when she feels me.

“Oh,” she says again, this time breathier.

I spin her around and cage her against the counter, her back pressed against the edge as flour coats my hands from where I clench onto it on either side of her body. “I don’t know about you, but nothing has gotten out of my system yet.”

Her eyes flash at the reminder of what happened between us weeks ago. Did she think I’d forgotten? That I’d let it go? It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens.

Belle lets out a shuddered breath. “It hasn’t,” she manages to say, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Gotten out of my system, I mean.”

I debate on what to do, where to take this, when her body arches forward to get a better feel for the erection aching for her. That’s when I make my decision.

All I say is, “Good,” before my mouth is on hers again and I’m lifting her onto the counter not caring that she’s going to be covered in flour and other ingredients.

She gasps into my mouth, allowing me to taste her. Belle must have been testing her menu because she tastes like sugar and berries. I step into her, winding her legs around my waist and lick her tongue, her teeth, bite into her bottom lip and trail my hands up her sides. I bring the material of her shirt up with them until I’m stripping her of it and discarding it somewhere on the kitchen floor.

“Jesse,” she rasps when I look down to see her exposed breasts. Her nipples are pebbled, and her skin is flushed.

“I’m glad the cat didn’t scratch these,” I say almost to myself, grazing the pads of my thumbs over the hard peaks. “I would have had to leave them alone to heal if he did.”

Her eyelashes flutter as I swipe and circle and squeeze her nipples between my fingers. “God,” she moans. “That feels good.”

They’re sensitive and I love it.

“Tell me what you want,” I say, letting my hands roam up and down the curves of her smooth torso until my palms land just below her breasts.

“I-I—” She chokes when my knuckles graze the underside of her left boob, and I nuzzle the crook of her neck, peppering kisses there. “I don’t know. I think my brain is short circuiting.”

I smile against her skin because I understand exactly what she’s going through.

“Everything,” she decides as my mouth drags a path from her throat to her collarbone and then further south until it’s pressing above her racing heart. “I want everything.”

Thank God. My mouth envelopes her nipple, rolling my tongue over it until she rubs against me with a guttural noise that will be permanently engraved in my mind forever. I lick and suck and tug the peak while my hand kneads the other breast and then drops to her backside, sliding my hand into her shorts and palming her ass. She lifts up the same time she wraps her arms around my neck, letting me pull down her shorts until she is completely naked on the kitchen island.

I take her in like I’m staring at a statue of Aphrodite. Utter disbelief at the beauty of this woman, both inside and out, leaves me speechless. I want to touch every goddamn inch of her. Taste her where she’s most sensitive. Bury myself inside of her and spend hours there.

I want everything too. And I’m sick of depriving myself from accepting the truth.

“This seems unfair,” Belle breathes, biting her bottom lip. “You’re still fully clothed.”