Her soft touch landed on Donovan’s arm, and the anger shuddering inside him shifted into an ache. She stepped closer, the warmth between them radiating enough heat to set him on fire. But like the fireplaces he built, he could handle it. He could handle the heat from her, not because he was impervious, but because he was strong enough to soak her in and not burn to ash.
She turned his arm where paint was drying. She swiped at it with her sleeve. “I made a mess.”
He’d forgotten about the paint. “Don’t… I can… There is a shower in the…” He lost his train of thought when she turned those emerald green eyes up to him. He watched her delicate throat work as she swallowed. His eyes traveled up her neck and landed on her mouth. Needing her mouth, he lowered his face, watched her eyes grow dark and wide, watched her lift her chin to meet him.
Heat. He wanted more. If only to test his own strength.
He moved his lips gently against hers, but resisted holding her to him. She held onto him though, grasping his forearms with both hands, her fingers wrapped around his elbows. Pressing her body against his, pressing her tits against his ribs.
Hell, sounded like an invitation to him. Deepening their connection, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, reached around, and grabbed her ass with both palms. When he squeezed, she sucked in a breath.
“Told you,” he rumbled.
“Not a complaint, Scampi.” He squeezed again. “Perfect.”
A choked laugh left her throat. “Big.”
Still moving his hands over her backside, he said, “First thing I noticed about you at the Wharf.” He’d been plating up a chicken scaloppini when the manager walked in to show around a few new servers. Two he couldn’t remember, and Sofie. Bent over the plate, he’d peeked between the metal shelves framing that perfect ass . He’d stood to get a better look, and she’d pegged him with those moss-greens.
“Second thing I noticed was your eyes.”
Her lips parted slightly. “And the third thing?”
He kissed her. She tasted incredible. “The first time you talked to me.”
She rolled her eyes. “And what did I say?”
She didn’t think he remembered. She was wrong. “‘Can I get a side of cock?’”
Laughing, she shook her head.
He smiled back at her, unable to help himself. “Then you cleared your throat and said, ‘cocktail sauce’.”
Shaking her head, she said, “Worst abbreviation ever.”
“Kitchen guys are immature.”
She blinked up at him, studying him, like she was trying to piece him together. He didn’t want her to. Once she pieced him together and had the whole picture, she wouldn’t like what she saw.
He kissed her again, keeping his hands on her body.
“Are you testing my boundaries?” she asked, her tone teasing. He recognized that comment from the night he rescued her from Torsett.
“Mine,” he corrected.
Sofie bit her lip. “I don’t date much.”
“Me either.” At all, actually.
She shook her head, more in thought than in argument. “I don’t think I have any boundaries with you.”
He was beginning to think he had none with her, either.