Page 119 of Just One Little Bargain

“Okay. Come here.”

I’m at the counter, my dough already half-shaped, while his tragic attempt slumps beside it with its cratered middle and bloated edges. I’d tell him to start over, but I want his hands busy near mine more than I want a second decent crust.

He doesn’t take the open spot beside me, fitting himself against my back instead. I feel the furnace heat of him before anything else, soaking through my shirt until it settles low and turns into an ache. We’ve been circling this for days now: his mouth on mine, my hands under his shirt, the careful drag of his fingers over my waist when he knows exactly how close I am to giving in. I’m running out of ways to pretend I don’t want more.

“Show me again.” His breath stirs the loose strands at my temple.

I roll the pin forward, quarter turn. Milo’s fingers twitch against the counter, mimicking the rotation, while the dough spreads obediently beneath me. His nails are ordinary again, the claws gone before he comes anywhere near my skin. He touches me with impossible care now, and that is much worse for my self-control than danger ever was.

His fingertips find the inside of my forearm and draw a slow line down to my knuckles. “Can I?”

My grip on the rolling pin loosens. “Yes.” Always, apparently.

Milo’s hand covers mine, swallowing it, and together we press the pin into the dough. It gives beneath our combined weight, thinning where our grip joins. His longer fingers slip into the spaces between mine around the handle, fitting there with unfair precision.

“Harder?”

“A little.”

Milo’s hand slides to my waist as his mouth opens against the side of my neck. His tongue drags over my pulse, then his lips close over the same spot with a slow pull. I gasp as his thumb slips under my shirt.

I roll the pin forward again, and his hips follow the motion, another controlled drag that sends a pulse straight between my thighs. My underwear goes damp.

My head falls back, and his mouth is there immediately, kissing lower with a hunger he keeps trying to make gentle.

“You’re not paying attention to the dough.”

“I’m paying attention to everything.” His teeth catch lightly beneath my jaw, and the moan I’ve been holding back slips out against his cheek. “Especially to what happens when I touch you.”

His thumb strokes once at my waist under the hem of my shirt, and I arch into the touch. His hand slips farther under the fabric, palm settling below my navel. Then his fingers flex.

“Who said you’re allowed the rest?”

“No one.” His hips press forward, grinding against me to pull a gasp out of me. Milo’s hand follows the answer upward, over my ribs. He stops just beneath the edge of my bra. “I’ve been improvising. Correct me whenever you like.”

I roll back into him instead of answering, and the groan that tears loose against my neck is wrecked.

“Show me how hard. How slow. I’m an extraordinarily attentive student, Evie. I’ll get every part of you right if you’ll only tell me where to press.”

My lips graze his jaw when I turn, and his fingers flex against my ribs. Keeping one hand curled on the rolling pin, I take hold of the wrist beneath my shirt. His palm is waiting along my ribs. I slide him under my bra and close his fingers around my breast.

Milo’s hips jerk into me.

“You wanted instructions.” I press into his hand until my nipple pushes against the center of his palm. “Start there.”

My fingers fold over his, closing his grip until my flesh yields between them.

“Harder.”

He obeys, and the pressure sends a sharp pull straight through me. I arch into his grip, guiding his thumb over the stiff peak. “Good. Just like that.”

His fingers tighten again, more certain now, and I let my head fall back against his shoulder.

The second pass is firmer, dragging over the hardened point until a moan slips out of me and my ass rolls along his bulge in answer. He follows, grinding into the space I give him while his fingers spread beneath the curve of me and lift, holding me more fully against his palm.

“Milo.”

I sink lower over the counter, opening the angle between us until he fits tight against my pussy through our clothes. Milo comes with me, body covering mine. His forehead drops to my shoulder.