But I can sure as heck feel the pulsing between my legs.
The next thing I know, he sets me on the counter top, plants a smacking kiss on my lips and backs away, returning to the cutting board just a few feet away.
I stick my lower lip out in a pout and bat my eyes at him, but he just reaches over and smooths the pad of his thumb over my lip, drags his knuckles down my cheek, and whispers, “Trust me. Let me feed you. Let me pamper you a bit. I like it.”
Well, how in the heck am I supposed to say no to that?
“Can I snack while you cook?” I ask, as he chops through celery surprisingly quickly.
“Sure.” He passes me a celery stalk. “Wine?”
He pours us each a glass of white, we clink our glasses together, and take a sip before he resumes chopping and I munch my celery.
“You feed me a lot.”
“You’re a good eater.”
I pause with the celery halfway to my mouth and frown at him.
“What are you implying?”
“That you eat well?” He asks with a shrug.
I glance down at my small-ish chest and flat-ish stomach and then back at him. “Am I fat?”
He busts out laughing, not breaking his stride in his chopping.
“No, Kate. You’re not fat. You enjoy food. And in doing so, I enjoy watching you eat. I’d feed you every meal every day if I could.”
“Can I have more celery?”
He grins, passes me the celery, and kisses me soundly before pulling away to get back to work.
Sitting here, watching him cook, is not a hardship in the least.
Dinner was delicious. Eli is just one big surprise after another. It’s amazing to me how normal he is. The whole family, really, and it shouldn’t, because I’ve been so close to Van and Dec for so many years, but this family is rich beyond my wildest dreams, yet they’re as grounded and down to earth as anyone else. There aren’t servants bustling about. Their cars are new and expensive, but no Aston Martin.
And on a Sunday afternoon, I’m lying on the couch with this powerful man, who has the ear of governors and high-powered people, who runs a multi-billion dollar enterprise with ease and efficiency.
He’s snuggling me, on his back, with me lying on his chest, watching some stupid movie on cable, while his fingertips glide up and down my bare arm, my shoulder, my neck and into my hair and back down again.
If I could purr, I so would right now.
“We have the whole house to ourselves, and you want to watch a movie?” I ask lazily. He plants his lips on my head, takes a deep breath, and hugs me tight before his fingers resume their trek over my skin.
“Is there something else you’d rather do?”
“Well…” I grin and kiss his heart, over his T-shirt, breathing him in. He smells good. Clean. A little citrusy. I shift my pelvis over his and feel him start to harden, and his fingers still on my shoulder. “Yes.”
His fingers sink into my hair as I kiss down his torso, lifting his shirt as I go, and plant wet kisses over his flat, chiseled abdomen. His breathing speeds up, but he’s quiet; the only sounds are the TV and my lips smacking on his smooth, warm skin.
I could kiss his stomach all day long.
His T-shirt slips back down, and I frown up at him. “Can we dispose of this, please?”
He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it on the floor, and shuts the TV off before lying back down. “Better?”
“Hmm.” I push up to kiss his lips, tug on the lower lip with my teeth, then work my way down his throat, chest, and back to his stomach, enjoying the ridges of the muscles there. “I thought the six-pack was a myth. Or the work of Photoshop.”
“Not if you work your ass off for it,” he replies. His breath hitches when my tongue finds the groove of that V in his hips and trace it down to where it disappears into his jeans. I make quick work of the button and zipper, and smile when I see he’s not wearing underwear.
His erection springs free into my hand, and I immediately grip it and pump it twice. Eli tosses his head back and groans, then turns his hot eyes back on me as I slowly lick from his scrotum to the tip in one long, fluid motion and rub the underside of the head on the flat of my tongue before taking him in my mouth and sucking, not too hard, but enough to get his attention.
And by the way his hand tightens in my hair, right at the scalp, where it feels so darn good when he pulls, I’ve got his attention.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
I take him deeper, until the head is at the back of my throat, and I swallow, massaging him, loving the way it seems to grow even bigger in my mouth, firm my lips and pull up, lick the head, and repeat the motion.
“Look at me.”
My eyes find his. They’re hot, narrowed just a bit. His mouth is open as he pants. The hand not gripping my hair is behind his head, and his whole body is heaving.
It’s sexy as hell that I can turn him on like this after just a few moments.
I lick down his shaft and over his tight balls, lightly suck them, then work my way back up to take him into my mouth once again. He begins to gently guide me into a pace that he likes, barely thrusting up to meet me. Not forcing me, but rather guiding me, and I love it.
“Grip your lips just a little tighter.”
I comply and he hisses out a breath.
“Fuck, baby.” His hips are moving faster, and suddenly, he’s pulling my hair, but I stay where I am. “Kate, I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
I hum and stubbornly stay put, but after only two more pushes and pulls with my mouth, he grips onto my shoulders and pulls me up his body, claims my mouth with his, and effortlessly reverses our position, pinning me beneath him on the cushions of the couch.
“I was having fun,” I pout.
“That’s not how this works, cher.” He nibbles my lips, brushes his nose over mine, and then plants soft kisses on my cheek.
“How what works?” I ask breathlessly. Good God, this man can kiss. Is this legal in the state of Louisiana?
“This.” He repeats softly as he continues to pepper my skin with kisses. “You’re not going to just suck me off and make me come and call it a day.”
“Well, that wasn’t really my plan. I was just having fun.”
“Hmm.” He kisses my collarbone. “I’ll be back. I don’t have a condom on me.”
“Wait.” I grip his arms, keeping him still. “I have the birth control covered.”