Chapter 8: Put It on the Bill

His mouth was warm and certain, and for one second he didn't move.

Then he made a low sound in his throat and kissed me back, hard.

His hand slid into my hair.

The other one closed around my hip and pulled me flush against him, and I felt exactly how much he'd meant what he said.

I gasped against his lips.

"Quiet," he murmured. "The little girl."

"Then don't stop," I whispered.

He lifted me.

It took no effort at all.

My back met the counter, and the edge of it pressed into the backs of my thighs, and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

"Put it on the bill," I said.

"What?"

"The roof. Everything. Put it on my bill."

He laughed against my neck, and then his mouth opened on my pulse and the laugh turned into something else.

"I'm going to charge you a lot," he said.

"Good."

He pulled my shirt up and over my head and dropped it on the floor.

The kitchen light was too bright.

I reached for the switch, and he caught my wrist.

"Leave it," he said. "I want to see you."

Nobody had said that to me in a long time.

Nobody had looked, either.

He looked now, slowly, from my face to my throat to my bra, and I watched his chest rise and fall.

"Sadie."

"Yes."

"You're beautiful."

"I know you want to say something filthier."

His eyes went dark.

"I do," he said. "I'm working up to it."

He unhooked the bra with one hand.

It fell away, and he took my breast in his palm and ran his thumb across the nipple until I arched into him.

Then his mouth closed over it.

I bit down on my own knuckle so I wouldn't cry out.

He felt me do it.

He drew back an inch, and his eyes met mine.

"Not that hand," he said. "Give it to me."

He took my wrist and laid it flat against the counter beside my hip.

His fingers held it there, and not roughly, only enough that I knew he'd decided it.

My whole body clenched.

He went back to my breast, hot and slow, and the sensation went straight down between my legs.

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