She was standing in the kitchen chopping peppers for the salad when he came through from the garage. As he brushed by her, lowering his head to drop a kiss to the nape of her neck on the way by to grab a bottle of water, she felt her insides stir. He smelled of sweat and diesel fuel, and somehow that mixture was better than any musk to stimulate and tingle her senses.
The refrigerator closed with a suctioning thump as she paused her knife to enjoy the sight of her man. His head was tilted back, drawing great gulps of liquid down his bronzed throat. Sweat glistened on his face and arms. The hair under his ball cap was dark with the damp. Stubble littered his chin and she ached to run the palms of her hands across the planes of his cheeks.
He caught her look, lowered the now empty bottle and smiled. “What’s for dinner?” His voice held a husky tenor.
She looked down at her chopping block, lowering the blade to the side before raising her eyes to meet his with a bold invitation. “What do you want?” Her own voice lowered with anticipation as electrical currents of wanting curled her stomach before reaching tendrils of shock waves to pulsate at her core.
An arched eyebrow ran to hide under the brim of his cap as his hand reached up to lift the cap slightly from his crown only to lower it again and screw it into place. The widening of his eyes combined with the flooding of his irises drowning out the color of his natural grey-green eyes, the only indicator of his instant excitement.
Retracing his steps, he didn’t rush. He never rushed. And this served only to heighten her expectation. Moving the two paces back towards her post at the kitchen island, his hands reached for her hips. “You,” he said lowering his head to flick his tongue along her neck, up under her ear. “Only you,” he smiled into her sensitive skin. “Always you.”
Linking her arms around his neck to draw him closer, she asked. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
The refrigerator closed with a suctioning thump as she paused her knife to enjoy the sight of her man. His head was tilted back, drawing great gulps of liquid down his bronzed throat. Sweat glistened on his face and arms. The hair under his ball cap was dark with the damp. Stubble littered his chin and she ached to run the palms of her hands across the planes of his cheeks.
He caught her look, lowered the now empty bottle and smiled. “What’s for dinner?” His voice held a husky tenor.
She looked down at her chopping block, lowering the blade to the side before raising her eyes to meet his with a bold invitation. “What do you want?” Her own voice lowered with anticipation as electrical currents of wanting curled her stomach before reaching tendrils of shock waves to pulsate at her core.
An arched eyebrow ran to hide under the brim of his cap as his hand reached up to lift the cap slightly from his crown only to lower it again and screw it into place. The widening of his eyes combined with the flooding of his irises drowning out the color of his natural grey-green eyes, the only indicator of his instant excitement.
Retracing his steps, he didn’t rush. He never rushed. And this served only to heighten her expectation. Moving the two paces back towards her post at the kitchen island, his hands reached for her hips. “You,” he said lowering his head to flick his tongue along her neck, up under her ear. “Only you,” he smiled into her sensitive skin. “Always you.”
Linking her arms around his neck to draw him closer, she asked. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”