I laughed, and helped him pull his sweats back on before settling next to him on the sofa. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his side, and I reveled in the rightness of it. There was no awkwardness between us, no stilted conversation.
Only a sense of being completely at home.
Until I realized it wasn’t forever, and that no matter how badly I wished for it, or how desperately my heart longed for it, Dane Winters could never be my home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kennedy
THERE WERE A number of things that I found incredibly sexy when it came to a man. Like the way he walked with a determined gait, or how he opened doors for a girl, whether he knew her or not. But none of those simple things compared to what I saw when I walked into my kitchen on Thanksgiving morning.
Dane had his bare back to me, wearing nothing but his white boxer briefs. He had his earphones in, and he was doing a little shimmy with his hips while he prepared some breakfast in front of the stove. His body was carved, each line of every muscle clearly defined. I followed those very lines down his back, to the dimples in his back, and the taught, shapely muscles of his butt. He shimmied again, and started humming along to whatever was playing through on his iPod, while I leaned against the kitchen counter and enjoyed the show.
Seeing him so carefree, and at ease in his own skin, was enough to elicit a slight stir between my legs, and I wanted nothing more than to satisfy my innate hunger for him.
I pushed off the counter, and walked forward until I could wrap my arms around him, and feel his warm, smooth flesh through the shirt I’d thrown on. After we’d gone to bed last night, Dane continued to lavish my breasts, and we ended up making out like horny teenagers for the second time in a day. But this morning I had other plans, and they were explicit, adult plans.
He turned his head, pulled out his earphones, and grinned down at me.
“What ya doing?” I asked, peering around him to see what he had been cooking. The sweet smell of French toast whirled around us, and my stomach grumbled in response.
“I was hoping I could surprise you with breakfast in bed,” replied Dane. He looked bashful as he turned to face me and put his hands on my hips. I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking it too. It was our last morning together, the last time he was going to be able to surprise me with anything, let alone breakfast in bed. I didn’t want to waste it by eating. At least not eating food.
“You didn’t have to. I could’ve helped you.”
“You would have distracted me,” he chuckled, removing the frying pan from the stove and switching it off. “Especially in my shirt.”
“I can take it off if you’d like,” I said bravely. I had never been so forward when it came to intimacy, and taking what I wanted, but Dane had shown me that it’s okay to not only ask for what you wanted, but also to give yourself freely.
I started unbuttoning his shirt, watching as his eyes followed the movement of my fingers.
“Kitten.” His mouth wrapped around the nickname I’d become so fond of, and caressed every letter.
“Are you going to feed me?” I asked innocently, stepping back until I hit the counter. I hoisted myself up, and leaned back on my arms. Dane eyed my pink lace panties, and then prowled towards me like a man possessed. He parted my thighs, and came to stand between my legs.
“Do you know how sexy you are?” He asked hoarsely. His eyes bored into mine, the icy blue darkening.
“No,” I sat up, brushing my hands through his lush brown hair, and wrapped my arms around his neck, “but I know how sexy you make me feel.”
It was true. Dane made me feel both desirable and desired, and it didn’t matter whether were naked in bed, or wearing t-shirts and sweats while watching television on the sofa. He kissed the side of my mouth, and pressed his forehead against mine. “You deserve it. That, and so much more.”
His words touched me so deeply, and I was afraid things were turning too serious too quickly. This was about getting our fill of each other, and savoring every second until time drifted away from us.
“Mr. Winters,” I sighed, breaking the somberness that had cloaked us. “I do believe you are overdressed for this occasion.”
He lifted his head, and flashed me his signature dirty grin.
“By all means then, Ms. Monroe, undress me so I can have my wicked way with you, and then feed you.”
I hitched my knees up, and used my toes to slide Dane’s boxer briefs down his legs. He removed my panties with his hands, and placed open-mouthed kisses on the arches of my feet before tugging my hips to the edge of the counter.
“Are you…” he hesitated, looking slightly red-faced. “Can we…?”