“You are?” I look long and hard at Declan, his face flushed, his chest heaving, and his eyes desperate.
“I gave you the password to my phone.”
“I thought that was for work.”
Declan barks out a laugh, then sighs and rubs his eyes. “That kiss, that fucking epic kiss, Elle…” He looks up at me, pleading. “How was I supposed to push it all back into a locked box after that kiss?”
“You can’t.”
“And I don’t want to.” And with those words, he takes two long strides and pulls me flush against his body, hand in my hair tilting my head back to look into his deep brown eyes. “Tell me you still want me.”
“I still want you.”
His mouth descends over mine. The contact of his demanding lips causes heat to burst through my body, and when his tongue slides past my parted lips, I let out a soft whimper of need.
“Elle…” he growls out a warning, to which I respond by sliding my hand down his front and over his prominent manhood. Dec catches my wrist and brings my palm to his lips, planting a soft kiss in it.
“Is this the part where you tell me that can never happen again?”
“No. This is the part where I ask your place or mine,” Dec replies with a slow, sexy grin. “I have to draw a line somewhere, like having sex in the office. But no more copping out, Elle.”
“My place,” I hurry to answer, pulling Declan by his shirt and pressing my lips against his again for good measure. “I need to get some baking done today, somewhere between the multiple rounds of not-office sex.”
Declan snorts with an amused glare. “No pressure.”
“Oh, you have so much to make up for, Mr. Moretti, there is definitely pressure,” I clarify with a laugh of my own as I take my purse and work satchel. “This better be one epic fuck.”
I squeak when Declan spins me into his chest. His lips meet mine with a kiss to end all kisses, and when we come up for air, I can barely stand, my bags thrown to the ground.
“You let me know if it fell under the epic category once I’m done with you, okay?”
I can only nod, all my words, along with my heart, stolen away by that kiss.
The entire ride home Declan has his hand on my knee, fingers drawing lazy circles over the inside of it, me resisting the urge to slide down and have his palm inch up my skirt.
“I’m going to change and we’ll start,” I inform Declan once we’re inside.
“Did I ruin your panties again?” He asks with a cheeky grin.
“Yes. Demolished. Going to have to chuck them.”
“I wouldn’t bother with a new pair, shame to throw away two in one night.”
“Fair point,” I agree, barely stopping myself from climbing him where he so casually stands, looking every bit yummy in his jeans and dark green cotton shirt. “I’ll be back in a jiff, make yourself comfortable.”
When I get back, Declan is waiting in the kitchen, barefoot with a glass of water in his hand as he checks out his surroundings.
“I like your kitchen,” he says when I walk in. “And your outfit.”
“The T and cotton shorts seemed most practical for pre-sex baking,” I explain. “Come on, I need to make my dough for the Sufganiyot. You can help.”
“I feel honored.” He places a hand over his heart. “What’s a Suf... What’s that?”
“Soof-ga-ni-yot,” I reply, emphasizing each syllable slowly. “Hanukkah jelly donuts, traditionally with a strawberry jam filling, but I decided to give it a Christmas twist with eggnog custard spiced up with rum.”
“Oh, my God.” Declan’s eyes grow bigger at my every word. “I may have to marry you, Elle.”
“Or you could grab the yellow plastic bowl from that drawer, for starters.” I laugh, and he salutes, pulling out the bowl while I arrange all the ingredients on the counter.
“What now?” he inquires, taking stock of the ingredients with a curious glare.
“Take this,” I instruct as I hand him a small flowery bowl, “and combine the yeast, that stuff over there, with one tablespoon from the flour and one tablespoon of sugar.”
Declan takes on a serious demeanor, the kind I’m accustomed to seeing on his face when he’s listening to one of our team explaining their work, and it’s kind of cute that he takes my baking just as seriously.
“Perfect. Now add the water and mix well.” I watch him follow my instructions with satisfaction. “Now cover it. We’ll circle back to the mixture when it becomes foamy.”
“Easy!” Declan grins in triumph.
I can’t help but laugh at how adorable he is and steal a kiss before melting the margarine in the microwave.
“Could you please mix the remaining flour and sugar with the salt and the egg yolks?”
“On it.”
We work for a few minutes in silence, Dec watching as I expertly mix the melted margarine into the batter, which is slowly starting to look like dough, then add the foamy yeast mixture to the big bowl.
“Now, slowly pour that cup of water while I stir.”
“Can I stir?” Declan requests with an eager gleam in his eyes.
“Sure.” I hand him the wooden spoon and retrieve the measured water I set out. Declan stands behind me, arms on either side as one hand steadies the bowl, and the other holds the spoon in a stirring position. The closeness of his body and his breath ruffling my hair have heat rushing straight to my core, and suddenly I’m antsy to get this part of the night over with.
“Like this?” Declan asks in a low voice as his arm starts moving. I nod, then slowly pour the water in a thin drizzle.
“Faster,” I instruct with short breaths. Being captured between Declan’s hard chest and the counter is more a turn-on than I anticipated. “Faster.”
Declan growls, his head dipping to my neck, and I manage to grab the bowl before it tips over when he lets go of it in favor of kneading my boob through my shirt, though he’s somehow still managing to stir.
The last of the water is tipped into the mix, and I count to ten. That should be okay, I decide, moaning when Declan finally abandons the spoon, freeing his hand to smooth over the inside of my thigh and between my legs, up the leg hole of my shorts, smile broad against my neck when he finds my bare sex.
“What now, Elle?” he rumbles against my sensitive skin, causing me to shudder, running a thick finger over me in teasing circles.
“Proofing oven, then bed.”
“I’m not sure we’ll make it to the bed,” his deep sultry voice rasps in my ear, and I have never been gladder that I’m not wearing any panties.
9
Declan
Elle practically dumps the bowl in the drawer under the oven, and the second I hear the click signaling it’s securely closed my patience snaps.
Spinning her to me, my mouth crushes over hers with hunger, and Elle is right there with me, fingers tangled in my hair and tugging my head back to gain better access while attempting to pull me toward the bedroom.
I run my tongue over her full bottom lip before sliding it into her mouth, exploring and tasting her small moans. Elle tugs impatiently at my shirt, so I push away just the slightest, pull it over my head, and do the same with her own shirt and shorts.