Spider Game
Page 46
His cock jerked. His heart stuttered in his chest. “Yes, baby. Please. I would very much like you to put on that apron and nothing else.”
“Where’s your apron?”
He grinned at her. “I got one to match.” He bent and did another brush of his mouth across hers and once more walked through the flour to the pantry door. It was a good-sized pantry, just like everything else in the house, the size of a large bedroom. Everything inside was easy to see with the lighting, and the wall facing him as he yanked open the door, deep inside, was false. With a touch of his palm, he could open the hidden tunnel and have an escape route. His apron hung on the hook next to the one that held hers.
He loved that she went along with his sexy teasing, making it easy and fun. He wanted that. He also wanted to know she’d want him with the same urgency he did her. He was going to do his best to keep this morning about fun, learning to cook breakfast together with a dash of spicy sexual play to show her she could be his partner in every way.
“Cayenne,” he said softly, as she turned away, presumably to clean up. “Thank you for doing this, for cooking my breakfast for me.”
“It was an utter disaster.”
“It meant everything to me,” he corrected.
Her smile lit her face, made her eyes go a crystalline green and called his attention right back to her full, red lips. “Then I’m glad. I’m going to take a quick shower and I’ll be right back.” She glanced down ruefully at her clothes. “I’ll soak my clothes as well.”
“There’s a laundry room, Cayenne.”
She blinked. Went still. Her smile faded. “I don’t know what that is, Trap.”
He stepped close and caught her chin in his hand. “I’m definitely teaching you to use the washing machine and dryer, baby, because I despise doing laundry. One summer I didn’t wear clothes in the house or lab so I wouldn’t have to wash clothes. Then I hired a housekeeper to do it, and I don’t like other people around much. My team, you and maybe Nonny, Pepper and the girls. Even with them I’m not the best. Nonny’s always threatening to wash my mouth out with soap.”
“Why?”
“I swear a lot. She doesn’t like it, and she’s right. I shouldn’t swear around her or the girls.”
“Why? Swearing is just words, isn’t it?”
“Not-so-nice words, babe,” he said. “Don’t follow my example. Most of the time I work by myself so it doesn’t matter what the fuck I say. Now, around Nonny and Pepper and the girls, I have to watch my mouth.”
“But I still don’t understand. Why would it bother them for you to be you?”
“I’ll be me around you, honey,” he promised, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he was in every situation. “There’s a bathroom just down the hall with a large shower and plenty of towels. It’s stocked with shampoo and conditioner for your hair, toothbrushes and hairbrushes. Just about anything you might need. Use that one and save time.”
She nodded, and he watched her go. Watched the way her very shapely ass swayed as she moved, tempting him into all sorts of sinful fantasies. He forced his mind back to the kitchen and the mess she’d created. He found himself smiling for no reason at all. If he wasn’t already falling for her, this mess definitely turned the tide. She’d tried. For him. She had no clue how to cook, but she’d gotten up early, looked up cooking videos and tried to make him breakfast.
He went back to his room and got his cell phone so he could take pictures. Lots of them. He added a video of the entire room. He wanted to have both to remember this moment. His woman, doing her best, giving him a priceless gift. The question came up in interview after interview: What did one get for the man who had everything and could get anything he wanted? You gave him this. A messy kitchen and burned pots and pans. Flour all over your face and clothes. You gave him something no one else had ever bothered to do or would think of doing. Yeah. He was falling hard. And he was framing the damn pictures and putting them up on his wall.
He got to work. She’d tried pancakes and eggs with some kind of sauce. She hadn’t started small, but then she didn’t know what was easy or difficult when it came to cooking.
He put on a pot of coffee and then scrubbed the floor and counters. Trap had the space ready for her, although the way he’d designed the kitchen, he had two kitchens, each mirroring the other with a long center aisle dividing them. He figured if the team and their families had to retreat to his fortress for protection, they would have plenty of cooking space. He had this double kitchen, the large kitchen in the downstairs apartment and a third kitchen in the wing of the house where he’d installed another huge suite. The large recreation room divided the space.
The burnt odor had faded by the time she returned. He didn’t need to turn around to know she was there. She moved in silence, but she had an addicting scent, the one he recognized now. The storms. The flowers. The scent of his woman.
“Trap?” She came up behind him, her hand sliding up the back of his thigh, over his very cut buttocks. “Is this how I’m supposed to wear this? Does it look right?”
She stepped close to him and he felt her tongue slide over the trail her hand left behind. Just the lightest of touches. It didn’t matter how light. He felt it sink into his bones.
He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of her palm sliding over his bare skin. He loved that she was tactile. Loved it more that she was oral. Loved that she was made for sex and sin. For him. That she had no inhibitions and would welcome the way he liked to play.
He turned slowly, and his breath caught in his throat. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered softly, his hand dropping to his cock. Already the loincloth apron was tenting hugely. “You look amazing. So damned sexy I’m not certain I can concentrate.”
She looked sexier than any of the pictures he’d seen with a woman demonstrating what the apron looked like. She might be tiny, but she was all there, an hourglass figure, her breasts high and thrusting against the lace, stretching it, pushing out her red nipples, the lacy webbing emphasizing the soft, full curves. The tie showed off her small waist and flaring hips. The skirt of the apron, short, but pleated and sassy, moved just a bit when she shifted her weight and showed him a peek of her tight black curls and a hint of that red hourglass.
“Where’s your apron?”
He grinned at her. “I got one to match.” He bent and did another brush of his mouth across hers and once more walked through the flour to the pantry door. It was a good-sized pantry, just like everything else in the house, the size of a large bedroom. Everything inside was easy to see with the lighting, and the wall facing him as he yanked open the door, deep inside, was false. With a touch of his palm, he could open the hidden tunnel and have an escape route. His apron hung on the hook next to the one that held hers.
He loved that she went along with his sexy teasing, making it easy and fun. He wanted that. He also wanted to know she’d want him with the same urgency he did her. He was going to do his best to keep this morning about fun, learning to cook breakfast together with a dash of spicy sexual play to show her she could be his partner in every way.
“Cayenne,” he said softly, as she turned away, presumably to clean up. “Thank you for doing this, for cooking my breakfast for me.”
“It was an utter disaster.”
“It meant everything to me,” he corrected.
Her smile lit her face, made her eyes go a crystalline green and called his attention right back to her full, red lips. “Then I’m glad. I’m going to take a quick shower and I’ll be right back.” She glanced down ruefully at her clothes. “I’ll soak my clothes as well.”
“There’s a laundry room, Cayenne.”
She blinked. Went still. Her smile faded. “I don’t know what that is, Trap.”
He stepped close and caught her chin in his hand. “I’m definitely teaching you to use the washing machine and dryer, baby, because I despise doing laundry. One summer I didn’t wear clothes in the house or lab so I wouldn’t have to wash clothes. Then I hired a housekeeper to do it, and I don’t like other people around much. My team, you and maybe Nonny, Pepper and the girls. Even with them I’m not the best. Nonny’s always threatening to wash my mouth out with soap.”
“Why?”
“I swear a lot. She doesn’t like it, and she’s right. I shouldn’t swear around her or the girls.”
“Why? Swearing is just words, isn’t it?”
“Not-so-nice words, babe,” he said. “Don’t follow my example. Most of the time I work by myself so it doesn’t matter what the fuck I say. Now, around Nonny and Pepper and the girls, I have to watch my mouth.”
“But I still don’t understand. Why would it bother them for you to be you?”
“I’ll be me around you, honey,” he promised, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he was in every situation. “There’s a bathroom just down the hall with a large shower and plenty of towels. It’s stocked with shampoo and conditioner for your hair, toothbrushes and hairbrushes. Just about anything you might need. Use that one and save time.”
She nodded, and he watched her go. Watched the way her very shapely ass swayed as she moved, tempting him into all sorts of sinful fantasies. He forced his mind back to the kitchen and the mess she’d created. He found himself smiling for no reason at all. If he wasn’t already falling for her, this mess definitely turned the tide. She’d tried. For him. She had no clue how to cook, but she’d gotten up early, looked up cooking videos and tried to make him breakfast.
He went back to his room and got his cell phone so he could take pictures. Lots of them. He added a video of the entire room. He wanted to have both to remember this moment. His woman, doing her best, giving him a priceless gift. The question came up in interview after interview: What did one get for the man who had everything and could get anything he wanted? You gave him this. A messy kitchen and burned pots and pans. Flour all over your face and clothes. You gave him something no one else had ever bothered to do or would think of doing. Yeah. He was falling hard. And he was framing the damn pictures and putting them up on his wall.
He got to work. She’d tried pancakes and eggs with some kind of sauce. She hadn’t started small, but then she didn’t know what was easy or difficult when it came to cooking.
He put on a pot of coffee and then scrubbed the floor and counters. Trap had the space ready for her, although the way he’d designed the kitchen, he had two kitchens, each mirroring the other with a long center aisle dividing them. He figured if the team and their families had to retreat to his fortress for protection, they would have plenty of cooking space. He had this double kitchen, the large kitchen in the downstairs apartment and a third kitchen in the wing of the house where he’d installed another huge suite. The large recreation room divided the space.
The burnt odor had faded by the time she returned. He didn’t need to turn around to know she was there. She moved in silence, but she had an addicting scent, the one he recognized now. The storms. The flowers. The scent of his woman.
“Trap?” She came up behind him, her hand sliding up the back of his thigh, over his very cut buttocks. “Is this how I’m supposed to wear this? Does it look right?”
She stepped close to him and he felt her tongue slide over the trail her hand left behind. Just the lightest of touches. It didn’t matter how light. He felt it sink into his bones.
He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of her palm sliding over his bare skin. He loved that she was tactile. Loved it more that she was oral. Loved that she was made for sex and sin. For him. That she had no inhibitions and would welcome the way he liked to play.
He turned slowly, and his breath caught in his throat. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered softly, his hand dropping to his cock. Already the loincloth apron was tenting hugely. “You look amazing. So damned sexy I’m not certain I can concentrate.”
She looked sexier than any of the pictures he’d seen with a woman demonstrating what the apron looked like. She might be tiny, but she was all there, an hourglass figure, her breasts high and thrusting against the lace, stretching it, pushing out her red nipples, the lacy webbing emphasizing the soft, full curves. The tie showed off her small waist and flaring hips. The skirt of the apron, short, but pleated and sassy, moved just a bit when she shifted her weight and showed him a peek of her tight black curls and a hint of that red hourglass.
