I liked Theo; I felt safe with him. Even better, I felt sexy with him—sexier than I’d ever felt in my life. Why not take advantage of that while I could? A one-night stand wasn’t exactly romantic, but it sure as hell beat going to bed alone tonight. Maybe I’d even learn a few things that would help me be more confident. I bet there’s a lot he could teach me.
I looped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Then we shouldn’t waste any more time talking. I’m not looking for a boyfriend here, Theo. Just a good time.”
He smiled against my lips. “OK then. Got any chocolate syrup?”
* * *
I did have chocolate syrup. But Theo got even more excited about the tube of crescent rolls I had in the fridge. “Oh my God, I have the biggest craving right now.”
“For what?” I asked, throwing my hair up in a sloppy bun on top of my head. Theo was probably going to complain about that, but if he was going to cover me in chocolate syrup or something, I wanted to avoid getting it in my hair. While Theo cleaned up in the bathroom, I’d run upstairs, taken off the dress and slip, and put on a white t-shirt and pajama pants. After debating underwear, I’d gone with my gut and left them off.
Theo pulled the rolls out of the fridge and turned around to face me. He was barefoot and wore just his pants and his white dress shirt, unbuttoned and cuffs rolled up. “Tell me you have marshmallows.”
His face was so serious, I had to laugh. “I have marshmallows.”
“Butter?”
“Yes.”
“Cinnamon and sugar?” His eyes were getting bigger with every ingredient.
“Yes, but what are we making?”
“My grandmother called them Magic Marshmallow Puffs or something. Oh my God, they’re amazing. I haven’t had them in years, not since she died. Turn the oven on to…” He looked at the tube. “Three seventy-five.”
“Got it.” I wanted to ask him more about his grandmother, but I wasn’t sure if I should. He guarded his privacy so closely, and I didn’t want to spook him, make him think I hadn’t meant what I’d said about being OK with just one night.
While I preheated the oven, Theo started opening my lower kitchen cupboards, which were so old the hinges were coming off. “These aren’t in very good shape.” He dropped down to examine one, balancing on the balls of his feet.
“Yeah, I know. It’s on my list of things to work on this winter. What are you looking for?”
His brow furrowed as he examined the hinges closer. “Uh, one of those pans with the holes in it.”
“Holes?”
He frowned and looked up at me. “Not holes exactly. A pan that you’d make cupcakes in.”
“Like a muffin tin?”
“Yes! A muffin tin.”
I laughed as I reached for a high cupboard, rising up on tiptoe to grab the muffin tin. “Here you go.”
“Perfect.” He shut the cabinet door, but it was crooked. “You know, if you have a drill, I could fix that for you.”
“That’s sweet, but if I only have you for one night, there’s only one kind of drilling I’m interested in.” My cheeks burned as I said it, but I loved the way it made his eyebrows arch in surprise, his mouth hook up in a slow grin.
“As you wish.”
I smiled. “So what can I do?”
“Grab a bowl and melt some butter in it.”
“Like how much?”
He thought for a second then held up his hand, thumb and forefinger about two inches apart. “About this much.”
I burst out laughing and went to the fridge for a half-stick of butter. “You really don’t cook, do you?”
“Nope. Sorry. I know the fake Theo cooks for you all the time.”
Something in his voice made me look over at him. He was peeling the wrapper off the tube of rolls and seemed to be concentrating hard on the task. Was he jealous of his fake self? “Hey. I’m not interested in fake Theo.”
“No?”
“No.” I shut the fridge and grabbed a bowl to melt the butter in. Once it was in the microwave, I went to him and slid my arms around his waist. I was so short in my bare feet, I had to tip my head way back to look at him. “Why would I be, when I have the real thing right here?”
“I don’t know. Fake Theo is a pretty good guy.”
“Real Theo is better.”
He smiled. “Even though he doesn’t cook?”
“He’s got…other talents.”
Theo lowered his lips to mine and softly stroked them with his tongue. “Yes, he does. And he’s going to use them.” As the kiss grew deeper, his hands wandered down over my butt, inside my pants. He groaned. “You’re still not wearing underwear?”
“No. Did you want me to put some on?”
“Don’t you dare. I like you this way.” His mouth moved down the side of my throat, making me shiver. “I just might get a little distracted while I’m trying to cook.”
“No complaints here.” I loved his hands on me. And his lips and tongue and anything else he wanted to touch me with. He kissed his way down my neck and chest, making my nipples perk up and poke through the thin cotton. Bending down, he lowered his head and sucked one into his mouth, shirt and all. He took it between his teeth, and my clit started to tingle. The microwave dinged, signaling the butter was ready, but neither of us cared. I took his head in my hands, threading my fingers into his hair as he moved his mouth to the other breast and his hand to the first. Oh my God, if it feels this good with a shirt on, imagine how incredible it will feel when it’s off.