Killian nods. "I'm going to get the door back on the hinges and go wash up."

I turn away as he puts the freezer door back where it belongs, and busy myself with dumping a batch of cupcake ingredients into the mixer before pulling a small tray of cupcakes from the refrigerator and beginning to pipe frosting onto them.

Not kissing Killian is the logical thing, I tell myself. It's the smart thing. It's the not-thinking-with-the-libido thing to do. It's just an attraction, and I can ignore an attraction.

That's what I tell myself before Killian walks back into the kitchen, his footsteps heavy on the floor. I tell myself to thank him and get him out of here before my lust completely overwhelms any sense of reason I have.

I stand at the counter, staring at the cupcakes in front of me, willing Killian to just say he's leaving. But he doesn't. I feel him standing behind me, but he doesn't touch me. I nearly whimper because . . .

I desperately want him to touch me.

"Lily," he says, his voice low. His breath plays across my skin, and I shudder as goose bumps travel down the length of my arms in response to his speaking my name. I swallow hard, my feet rooted to the ground, the logical part of me saying that I should thank him politely for his help and walk away. But the irrational part of me seems to have taken over my body.

"Killian," I say, half a warning and half a moan.

"Turn around." His voice is low in his throat. He doesn't touch me, yet every part of my body seems to be on edge, every cell in my body turned on and eager for his touch. "Look at me."

But I don't turn around.

"Goddamn it, woman," he growls. His mouth is near my ear, and I whimper as he grabs my ponytail. "Tell me you want this. I have to know you want it."

I stand there silently, the weight of the question hanging in the space between us. Do I want this? More than anything I've ever wanted.

"Yes." The word escapes my lips before I can stop it, barely a whisper.

Then he touches me. He drops my ponytail and his palms, rough and calloused, slide down the length of my arms until he reaches my hands on the table. His lips graze my ear. I tilt my head, squirming at his touch as desire floods my body.

"Say it again," he orders.

"Yes." I choke out the word as his tongue flicks over my earlobe, catching the sensitive skin between his teeth. He reaches behind me, unties my apron, and slides it over my arms, then pulls my t-shirt over my head before I can reconsider. As he runs his hands over my shoulders and down my back, he grunts his approval.

"Killian," I start, but the word becomes a groan when he traces his lips along my neck, his beard rough against my skin. The roughness only intensifies the sensation and I can't help but think about the way it would feel between my legs.

"Since the second I saw you, I've thought about bending you over this counter," he says, his hand cupping my breast. My nipple hardens immediately at his touch, despite it being muted by the fabric of my bra, and when he pulls me tightly against him with his other hand, I can feel his hard cock press against my ass.

"That's not true," I whisper as his finger slips inside the cup of the bra, rough against my nipple.

"Woman, don't tell me what I've thought about," he growls into my ear. "I've thought about how I'd fuck you more times than is good for a man."

"You couldn't have thought about bending me over this counter the second you met me," I protest as he turns me around to face him. Lust is etched into his features that much is unmistakable. "Since you didn't know I had this kitchen."

"The second I saw you in this kitchen, then," he amends. He tries to pull me against him but I hold up my hands, the tips of my fingers coated in blue and pink frosting.

"Let me just go wash "

He doesn't let me finish. Instead, he takes one hand and brings it to his mouth, his lips enveloping my finger before I can protest any further. He does it slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he does the same thing to the fingers on my other hand. Holy shit.

He wraps his hand around my wrists. "There. Now you stay."

You stay, he says.

Just like that.

He pulls me roughly against him, his mouth crushing mine with all of the weight of the tension that's been between us. As his hand slides to my neck, he kisses me with such force that it nearly takes my breath away. My hands find the edge of his shirt, my palms sliding underneath it and brushing against his skin.

Killian groans, and hearing his response to my touch sends desire surging through my body. I can't think anymore and I certainly can't come up with any more reasons not to do this. I'm consumed by his touch, by the sensation of his rough calloused hands on my skin, moving over my body.

He unbuttons my jeans, pulling them over my hips with such force that I think he might tear the fabric right off me. When he slides his fingers down the front of my panties, he growls. "Shit, you're wet. I knew you wanted me. You've been wet for me all along."

"Shut up," I protest, but it comes out more like a groan as his fingers find my entrance, teasing me. "Only in your dreams."

Killian chuckles. "You've been thinking about this since I spilled coffee on you at the store."

He doesn't thrust his fingers inside me. Instead he pauses at my entrance to torment me mercilessly, and I can't think about anything else except how desperately I want his fingers inside me, or how much I want him to strip these jeans off my legs and take me up against the wall, my legs wrapped around him as he thrusts inside me.

"Tell me you've been thinking about me fucking you," he commands, his breath warm against my ear. His beard brushes against my skin and it sends a shiver up my body. I cling to his muscular arms, my fingers digging into them as I try to focus on what he's saying and not on the fact that what I really want to do right now is rip his clothes off.

"Fine," I admit. "Yes. I've been thinking about you fucking me, Killian."

The corners of his lips turn up in a smile. I definitely see it this time, even under the beard. Then he doesn't tease me anymore. He thrusts his fingers inside me in one swift movement until his palm is pressed against my clit. The moan that escapes my lips far too loud to be normal says everything about how this is the first time I've been touched in years.

"Have you fingered yourself thinking about my cock inside you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and low. My hand slides down to the button on his jeans but he shakes his head. "Not yet," he says, his fingers stroking me inside, the movement slow and repetitive. I let my hand drift lower to his hardness that presses against the front of his jeans, and my pussy tightens around his fingers, an automatic response to merely feeling the outline of his cock.

"You didn't answer me," he whispers. He presses his fingers against the most sensitive place inside me, his eyes on mine as he brings me higher and higher. I can't think about anything when he's doing what he's doing with his fingers except how badly I want him naked against me.

"Yes."

He groans his response, cupping my breast in his hand and thumbing my nipple as he works his magic with his other hand. I hear myself whimper again, a desperate, needy sound that's so unlike me.

"It's been so long since you've been touched, hasn't it?" he asks, his hand sliding away from my breast and up to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. "And you want me to make you come so badly."

"Yes." My eyes are fixed on his, and the lust on his face and his desire for me makes me wetter.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about being inside you since the second I met you," he says. "The last time I kissed you, I barely made it home before I had to jerk off thinking about what I wanted to do to you. I'm going to make you come here on my fingers, and then I'm going to fuck you on the counter right in the middle of this kitchen. And then I want you in my bed."

The way he speaks the filthy words, the thought of him jerking off while he fantasized about me, sends me straight over the edge. I come with the intensity of someone who hasn't been touched by a man in years, screaming my orgasm far more loudly than I should in the middle of the store. Killian covers my mouth with his and I scream into it as heat surges through me with the intensity of a tidal wave.

I'm still coming, my pussy still tightening around his fingers, when a voice calls from behind us.

"Knock, knock! Delivery!"

17.

Killian Fuck. Well, now I'm going to have to murder a delivery guy.

I pull my lips away from Lily's as her eyes fly wide open, her pussy still throbbing around my fingers. I can't remember ever being as pissed off in my life as I am right now at the fact that a damn delivery guy interrupted the first orgasm I've given this woman.

Lily stands there, topless with her jeans pulled halfway down her hips and my fingers lodged firmly inside her, a horrified expression on her face.

I shield her with my body while shouting. "Get the hell out of here!"

"Give me a minute and I'll come sign for it!" Lily calls.

I hesitate for a second because frankly, my fingers are still inside of her and I don't want to take them out.

"Hurry," she whispers, slapping my hand. "He went to his truck. Grab my clothes."

I groan my displeasure, reluctantly sliding my fingers from her. I pick up her shirt and bra from their crumpled pile on the floor and hand them to her. "I'm going to finish what we started," I promise.

Lily grins as she pulls the t-shirt over her head. When she shakes her hair, it tumbles over her shoulders in waves. This time when she walks across the kitchen to sign for the delivery, it's more seductive than before, her hips swaying. I swear her orgasm is evident in every move she makes right now, and it makes me want to make her come a thousand more times. When the delivery guy returns with his clipboard for the signature, he doesn't make eye contact with either of us.

"Leave it outside," I growl.

"Killian!" Lily admonishes me. When he's gone, she whirls around, facing me. "You scared my delivery guy."

"Be glad that's all I did. That motherfucker might have gotten a look at your tits."

Lily laughs. The sound is light, lighter than anything I've heard from her since we met, and I can't help but smile. She stands in front of me with her hand on her hip, the way she does when she's angry with me, except she's not. She has a flush on her cheeks, a post-orgasm glow that makes her look even sexier than usual, and the sight makes me want to rip her clothes off right this instant.

Her gaze drops lower, and she brings a hand to her swollen lips. "Oh my God," she whispers. "You're still..."

"Hard? Yeah."

Lily steps closer to me, and I smell her perfume. Or her shampoo. Whatever it is, I swear it makes me even harder. "You were hard when the delivery guy came in."

"I want you. Getting interrupted doesn't change that."

She looks up at me, her eyes half-lidded. "Killian." She whispers my name, her hand palming my cock through my jeans.

I groan at her touch, even through the fabric of my jeans. It's her touch I've been fantasizing about. "Lily."

Her fingers fumble with the button on my pants, her eyes on mine. My cock jumps at the thought of her hand on my cock, pulling me from my jeans. And her mouth. Then she pauses. "I... " Her voice trails off. "I haven't done this in a... a long time."

Shit.

Even though I suspected as much, hearing the words come out of her mouth sends a surge of guilt through me. She's been hurt; it's written all over her; and she hasn't done this in a long time.

I can't just throw her up against a wall and fuck her.

She catches the look on my face. "I didn't mean that I don't want to," she whispers. "I'm just I don't know what I'm saying." She starts to unzip my jeans and I grab her wrist.

"Don't." I'm irritated with the fact that she's not sure and still unzipping my pants like she feels like she owes me something. When her eyes go wider, surprised at my response, I yank her to me, my hardness against her leg. My cock twitches at the sensation of her body on mine, and I groan.

"I want to "

"Bullshit. You're not sure. I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm going to fuck you like that? Or stick my cock down your throat because I want to get off?"

Her face colors and I know I'm right. She inhales sharply, her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm not a cocktease."

That word, coming out of her mouth...I groan low in my throat. Fuck, I want to hear her say it again. "Yeah you are. You're my cocktease." I press my hardness against her for emphasis.

"I'm not anyone's anything," she protests, but she doesn't try to pull her wrist from my hand, nor does she step away from me - even though she could. Instead, she runs her tongue over her lower lip.

"You're mine," I growl. The words come out of my mouth before I even know what I'm saying. I've never called anyone "mine". Hell, I've never wanted anything to be mine before. The words should sound foreign to my ears but they don't. Calling her mine feels like the most natural thing in the world, and that fact sends a pang of fear through me that I immediately push out of my head.

Lily raises her eyebrows. "I'm not yours," she whispers.

"Stop talking, woman." Letting go of her wrist, I bring my mouth down on hers in a furious kiss. I slide my hand to her back, holding her hard against me. Her tongue finds mine swiftly before she pulls back and looks at me.

"Stop telling me to stop talking," she says. "You can't just go around saying things like that."

She doesn't mean calling her woman. She means calling her mine.

My eyes locked on hers, I reach for the button on her jeans and she doesn't stop me. Her breasts rise as she breathes in, her lip pulling between her teeth again. That's her tell the lip between the teeth. I unzip her jeans and slide my hand down the front of her panties light blue cotton panties, nothing fancy, but hell if they aren't the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life. When my fingertips make contact with her clit, she lets out a whine, her need for me more than apparent. "This is mine."

I declare it. I stake my goddamn claim on this girl's pussy. I've never made a declaration like that.

She lets out a laugh that immediately turns to a moan when I roll my fingers over her clit. Gripping my biceps, she gasps before she speaks. "You can't say it's yours."

"I touched it," I say. "I'm touching it now. Do I need to lick it to claim it as mine?"

"Oh my God." She breathes the words low in her throat.

My cock strains against the zipper of my jeans. Shit, I've never had a bigger case of blue balls in my life. I'm like the fucking world record holder for blue balls. "Is that a yes?"

Lily slides her palm over the front of my jeans. "I want to "

"Sorry, cupcake."

She whimpers again. "Killian..."

"How long?" I ask, sliding my fingers from her because I want to pull off her clothes. She exhales heavily as an expression of disappointment flits across her face.

"How long what?" The look on her face tells me she knows exactly what I'm asking.

"How long has it been?" My hands find the sides of her jeans, pausing because I'm trying not to be a fucking animal and just tear her clothes off her, which is exactly what I want to do. My fingers pinch the fabric, my hands practically shaking because of my restraint.

"Three years," she whispers. Her gaze darts to the side as she avoids looking at me. "Three years ago, I had a one-night stand. It was ... not very good. I haven't had a whole lot of... "

Her voice cracks, and I stand there unmoving as she meets my gaze again. "Tell me."

She inhales deeply, pausing for what seems like an eternity before she exhales heavily. "I haven't had a whole lot of sex, okay? That's embarrassing as hell. That one night stand and before that, my " She pauses. "My husband."