“What?” I grinned as I poured the onions into the pot. They smoked with a satisfying hiss as they touched the hot butter. “Surprised to see a man cook?”
She blinked, her cheeks turning a little pink. Maybe she’d been staring at me for a different reason. Was she surprised I had a soft side under my thick, war-battered exterior?
“N-not really,” she replied. “I know the military makes you do mess duty and learn some home-ec skills.”
Oh yeah. I remembered that she’d recognized Greyson’s trident tattoo last night. Usually women either had no idea what it meant or instantly dropped their panties.
“How do you know so much about the Navy, anyway? You have a relative who served?”
Lacey tensed. “Yeah, a . . . relative.”
The odd tone to her voice signaled it was clearly a sensitive topic for her. I should probably back off; no point in digging into something she didn’t want to discuss. Especially not with the day she’d had.
To change the subject, I asked, “So where did you learn to cook? Your mom teach you?” I stood back so she could add her brimming bowl of vegetables to the pot.
She shook her head. “No, it was our housekeeper.” She pointed to the steaming pot. “Those only need to sear for a minute. Put them back in the bowl when you see brown.”
“A housekeeper, huh? Was your family well off, then?” I stirred the vegetables in quick, efficient figure-eights.
She forced a little laugh. Her somber expression bothered me more than it should have. “Not really. Dad could have cooked, but he was always working, and Mom . . . wasn’t around.”
Wow, I’m a complete tool. That was twice now I’d stumbled into a sore spot. Usually I was pretty smooth with women, if I did say so myself. My bedpost certainly had enough notches in it.
“Sorry.” I sighed. “That was none of my business.”
She shook her head, and her comforting smile was genuine. “It’s not a big deal. It happened a long time ago.”
Lacey didn’t seem to care how far I’d stuffed my foot into my mouth. And even though I was apparently way off my game today, I realized that I was still having a good time. Being here with her felt so comfortable.
She pulled the raw chuck roast out of the fridge and started sprinkling it with salt, pepper, and spices. Watching her was strangely captivating. But the vegetables were dangerously close to done, so I contented myself with an occasional glance at Lacey’s delicate hands, massaging the seasonings into the glistening roast.
After the meat was also seared and set aside, she pulled out a carton of beef broth and a bottle of red Burgundy to deglaze the pot. “I was going to have a glass of this and watch a movie while I waited for dinner.” Raising the bottle, she smiled—invitingly—at me. “What do you think?”
I grinned back. Now, this was a plan I could get behind.
We transferred all the ingredients back into the pot, slid it into the hot oven, and went to the couch with two glasses of red wine. I sat down barely an inch away from Lacey.
“Are you sure you’re doing okay?”
She took a sip of her wine and nodded. “Yes, I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Agreed. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Did you have fun last night?”
“You mean the game, or . . . ?” She leaned a little closer.
I reached out to stroke her cheek and she closed her eyes, sighing almost silently. I set my glass on the coffee table and pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth.
She pulled away slightly, but only to set her glass aside too. “I did have fun,” she said softly, brushing her lips against mine.
There was nothing chaste about my next kiss, and she met me with equal hunger. I knew I should take my time, but fuck, I didn’t want to.
I wrapped my arms around her, flattening our bodies together, pushing her down to squirm under me. She seemed so small like this. I wanted to gather her up, to protect her and pleasure her, and keep her for myself.
It took me a moment to recognize that fleeting spark of possessiveness for what it was. I hadn’t felt that way about a woman for a very long time. Usually I was content to enjoy whoever I was with, and then get the hell out of there when we were done.
Holding Lacey this close, I could feel her breathing hitch slightly whenever I nibbled her lower lip or stroked my tongue around hers. I mapped her mouth for every spot that made her knees tighten around my waist.
Daniella and I never kissed, and I was quickly realizing how much I loved it. It was strangely hot and sweet at the same time. Everything else in my life melted away, leaving only Lacey—her soft curves, soft skin, soft lips, soft sighs.
But I couldn’t ignore the pressure building fast in my groin. I rocked into her, grinding my hard bulge between her legs. She squeaked into my mouth.
“You like this?” I knew damn well she did—her hips had stuttered up to meet mine. But I wanted to hear her say it out loud.
“Y-yeah,” Lacey said softly.
I rewarded her with another quick, hard kiss. She tried to kiss back, only for me to pull just out of reach. “Can I touch you?” I asked.
Her sapphire eyes had already gone dark with desire. As soon as she nodded, I pounced.
I lavished her neck with long, sucking kisses as my hands roamed her body, squeezing her plush tits over her shirt—
Oh God, no bra under there; she’d been bare this whole time.
She gave a quiet moan and I took that as encouragement to push up her shirt. Eager to make her feel good, I moved my mouth lower to lick and gently bite her soft pink nipples. Spurred on by the sexy little sounds she made, I pushed myself between her legs, letting her feel how much she excited me.