I woke in Tomas’s bed, in his room. I bolted upright. The bed beside me was empty. The bathroom door was open, no sound coming from inside. He wasn’t here.
My face heated when I thought about what we did in his office last night—not just my face, my whole body. I couldn’t believe I’d actually done that in front of Tomas. That he’d done the same in front of me.
Yes, I’d seen guys get themselves off before. I worked in a strip club, it happened, but that wasn’t hot or sexy, and they weren’t Tomas. The last thing I remember was being lifted off the desk. I must have fallen asleep in his arms when he carried me upstairs.
God, I’d passed out on him.
The bedroom door opened and my head shot up. Tomas walked in, wearing those black PJ bottoms, his chest bare, hair mussed. And he was carrying a tray.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice still rough from sleep.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, finding it hard to meet his steady gaze. I took my clothes off for a living, in front of a room full of people. I didn’t get shy. It was different with Tomas, though. I felt like I was baring more than my body when I was with him, so much more, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
He sat on the side of the bed, putting the tray down on the other side of me. “Thought you might be hungry,” he said, and reached out, touching my hair, gently rubbing it between his fingers. “You passed out last night.”
“Sorry, I, ah, I haven’t been sleeping very well the last few nights,” I said. A shiver raced through me when Tomas curled the fingers of his other hand around my wrist and stroked the skin there with his thumb like he often did.
“Why are you sorry?” he said, some of the heat leaving his eyes.
As much as I wanted to pretend nothing had changed, it had. I wasn’t some nervous teenager, and Tomas wasn’t some guy who took me to prom. He was a powerful man, one used to getting what he wanted, and I had no doubt that included women. I forced myself to hold his stare. “Look, about last night. I, ah…I wanted to be with you, to have sex with you, but…”
“Steph…”
“But I don’t think I can…not yet.” My belly squirmed and that pissed me the hell off. So much for not acting like a nervous teenager.
His thumb didn’t stop moving against my wrist, and his expression didn’t change. “I brought you up here because I wanted you beside me, not for any other reason.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
His searching gaze moved over my face. “I’m not going to lie to you. I’ll never lie to you. Yes, I want you, but there’s no time limit on it, no rule book. We go at your pace.” His gaze lingered on my lips for several seconds then lifted back up. “Do you want that, too, Stephanie? Do you want me?”
There was no point lying. I didn’t want to lie to him either. He deserved my honesty. “Yes, I want you.”
He cupped the side of my face and leaned in, brushing his lips over mine. “You have no idea how fucking happy that makes me.”
Tomas had a shower while I ate the breakfast he’d made me. I ate most of it, my appetite back in full swing this morning. I was putting the tray aside when the bathroom door opened and he walked out, hair damp, wearing only a towel. He said nothing, just moved around the room getting ready. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, the play of his muscles, the beautiful ink on his skin…
The towel dropped.
His back was to me, and dear God, was he gorgeous. I mean, this wasn’t news to me, but I’d never seen him completely naked. Long legs, solid thighs, muscled ass and back. He was like a sculpture, a painting.
I watched, riveted, as he pulled on boxer briefs then black trousers.
He turned around and, yep, the front was as beautiful as the back, which I also already knew. His abs tightened and I all but licked my lips as my gaze traveled up, taking in all that golden inked skin. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to taste every inch, to trace those tattoos with my tongue. I carried on up, his throat, his chin, his lips…
My eyes clashed with his and they were smoldering.
“You keep looking at me like that and I’ll be forced to get back in that bed for a repeat of last night,” he said without a hint of a smile, just raw need staring back.
It should have scared me, intimidated me, because honestly I felt out of my depth with this man in every single way. Instead my body came alive. “You’re just…you’re so beautiful.”
His nostrils flared and he strode toward me, pulling me to my feet when I was in reach. Then he kissed me, hard and hot and deep, his tongue tangling with mine until my legs were shaking and my head was spinning.
When he tore his mouth from mine, we were both panting. I blinked up at him, trying to clear my head.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so fucking long.” He slid the pad of his thumb across my kiss-swollen bottom lip. “You okay with that?”
I nodded, still feeling dazed. “Yes.”
His lips curled up. “You taste like heaven.”
I licked mine where his thumb had been, and he growled softly.
“Stay up here if you want. Sleep some more. I’ll be in my office downstairs if you need me.”
I nodded, and was still nodding as he strode out of the room.
Could I really do this? Could I let him in?
I wasn’t sure I knew how to, how to let anyone close anymore. How to trust someone with every part of me.
But I realized I wanted to try. So bad it hurt.
“Add the flour then fold it in,” the woman said, her kitchen perfectly clean and a bright smile on her face.
I hit pause, leaving a floury fingerprint on the screen of my phone, and dumped a cup of flour in the mixing bowl. Arthur had hovered around me, looking stressed as I’d unloaded ingredients onto the counter, but had finally given up and left me to it after egg number two met its untimely demise on the floor by the fridge.
What can I say? I don’t do a lot of baking, or cooking of any kind for that matter—not anymore. But I’d woken up this morning after a really great sleep and felt energized. I was sure there was no correlation between my current mood and the fact I’d woken up in Tomas’s bed, right?
Riiiiiight.
I wanted to thank Tomas for being there for me, and since the man had everything, this was what I’d come up with. I knew he liked my chocolate muffins because I used to make them for Dad years ago when Tomas still worked for him. Tomas had loved them, and he’d always come back for seconds.
It was the only thing I knew how to make well. Unfortunately, I’d needed the help of a video this morning, since the recipe was back at my apartment. I looked around the kitchen. Maybe I’d gone a little overboard?
There were a dozen cooling on a rack, another batch in the oven, and a third in the bowl in front of me. God, he’d think I’d lost it. I winced and glanced at the clock. 3:00 p.m.
I’d been in here most of the day. Grabbing a tub of frosting, I got to work icing one. I’d just drop one off to Tomas, then finish up and clean the mess I’d made. My belly flipped at the thought of seeing him again, which was ridiculous. It had only been a few hours. Five and a half, to be precise. Yep, I’d been counting.
What are you doing, Stephanie?
I ignored the voice in my head, put the now-frosted muffin on a plate, and headed to Tomas’s office. The door was open and there were murmured voices coming from inside. Probably Arthur telling on me for messing up his kitchen. I poked my head around the door.
Tomas stood in front of his desk, body rigid, expression dark, hard. The man standing across from him said something and Tomas’s expression caused goose bumps to skitter down my spine. This wasn’t the Tomas who watched movies with me, who carried me to his bed, who’d gently kissed me at the foot of the stairs. This was the ruthless crime boss. A man who demanded respect and leveled anyone that tried to get in his way.
I’d seen him do business in the club. I’d seen people avoid him while he sat there waiting for me, afraid to even look his way. I knew what and who he was. Still, it was startling to see it here now.
“You have a fucking nerve coming to my home like this,” he said voice low, deadly.
The other man took a step back. “I thought…I just thought…”
“Next time use the fucking phone.” His eyes hadn’t wavered from the other man. “Get the fuck out.”
The man spun around, striding toward me. He paused when he saw me, then quickly averted his eyes. I watched him rush out the door, shutting it behind him.
I turned back to Tomas. He was standing in the same place, but now his dark eyes were on me. I couldn’t read them, but my belly squirmed.
I held the plate up lamely. “I, ah…I made you some muffins.”
His gaze slid from mine to the muffin and back. His lids lowered for a couple of seconds and his chest expanded on a sharp breath. Then those eyes were back on me. “Come here,” he said.
“I’m sorry if I…I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting or whatever…”
“Come here, Stephanie.”
It was a command, but there was no anger in his voice. The low, rough edge to it had zaps of electricity shooting through my belly. I could see him trying to pull back, to shake off whatever I’d just seen, but he was still there. Oh, he was definitely still there, and he was beckoning me to him.
My feet were moving in his direction before my mind registered what I was doing, until I was standing in front of him. I held the single muffin up in front of us.
“You made this for me?” he asked, not actually looking down at it, his gaze still on me. He was searching my eyes, my face. He wanted to know if I’d seen the interaction, if it frightened me. If he frightened me. He hadn’t. I could never be afraid of Tomas. He would never hurt me or mistreat me. There was no doubt in my mind about that. That man, the one I’d just seen, was who came for me when I needed him most, who was protecting me now. How could I think less of him for that?
I nodded, holding his direct gaze, wanting him to see it for himself. “Well, I made a couple of dozen, actually. I thought you might like one now.”
His nostrils flared and I knew he saw it. My acceptance. It pleased him. “How do they taste?” he said.
“Do you remember…” My face heated, and suddenly I was that sixteen-year-old girl again, trying to impress the hot tattooed guy who worked for my dad. “I used to make them for Dad and drop them off to him at work.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, this isn’t the same recipe, but I tried to find one close to it.”
“Do I remember when my boss’s beautiful, innocent, tempting as fuck daughter used to drop off chocolate muffins? In summer, wearing short pretty floral dresses or shorts that hugged her ass? In winter, coats that made me hungry to see what she wore underneath?” He licked his lips. “When seeing that girl was the highlight of my shitty life, and every time she came to see her dad I’d lock it away, those images, and take her home with me.”
I blinked up at him, heart pounding. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
He tucked my hair behind my ear. “And later, when I went to bed at night, I’d imagine she was mine, that that pure, innocent, fucking gorgeous girl was mine. I’d imagine the beautiful, warm smiles she gave her dad were for me. I’d imagine taking her out on dates, picking her up in my car after school. Laughing, holding her hand, kissing her. Taking her for rides, parking up somewhere, stripping those pretty floral dresses off her, and uncovering all her secrets.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “I’d stroke myself with those images in my head, desperate for my next glimpse of you.” He shook his head. “Do I remember? Yeah, Angel, I remember. I remember ever single time I laid eyes on you. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.”
I stood there speechless, feeling almost dizzy. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I knew it was the truth. It was there in his eyes.
“So?” he said. “How do they taste?”
“What?”
His beautiful mouth curled up. “The muffins?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
He glanced down, swiped his finger through the frosting, brought it to my mouth, and carefully smeared it over my bottom lip. My tongue darted out, tasting the sugary goodness automatically, and Tomas’s eyes darkened.
“Good?”
I nodded.
God, I wanted him to kiss me, and he wanted it, too. I could see it in his eyes. If I wanted something I needed to ask for it. I’d forgotten how. For so long, I’d been letting life happen to me. I realized that for the last year Tomas had been waiting for that from me. He’d been waiting for me to tell him I was ready, for him, for this.
I’d nearly lost my chance.
Hand trembling, I did the same as Tomas, scooping a little of the frosting up, bringing it to my mouth, and sliding it across my lower lip. I lifted my chin, looking up at him, doing my damnedest to exude confidence. Given it was fueled by a lust so intense my legs shook, it wasn’t as hard as I thought, because right then I needed him. This went way beyond want.
“Why don’t you try it for yourself?” I said.
A breath huffed from his nose and his dark gaze dropped to my mouth. “I want to, fuck, do I want to.” His eyes lifted back to mine. “But kissing you won’t be enough, not today, not when all I’ve been able to think about is the sweet way you kissed me last night. The fucking sweeter way you came for me on top of my desk. And not after some asshole who can’t follow instructions came to my home, compromising my security, and putting you at risk.” His gaze dropped to my lip again then back up. “I’m on edge, Angel, and if I kiss you, I’m gonna want to make you come. Because leaving you in my room this morning, in my bed, the way you looked there?” He shook his head. “That’s all I’ve been able to think about. And honestly, it’s taken everything in me not to come find you.”
“Find me?” I whispered, the pulse between my thighs a steady beat that had me swaying closer.
“You have no idea, do you? Christ, I want to drop to my knees and make you come against my mouth so bad I fucking ache. The last thing I want to do is pressure you, but that’s just where I’m at right now, this moment. If that’s too much for you, if you’re not ready, I need you to leave my office. I’ll pull my shit together and then I’ll come find you, and I’ll kiss you sweet and slow and hot and we’ll watch a movie, and I’ll love every fucking second of it. But not now. I can’t give you sweet now.”
I could see that saying that to me tormented him, but he meant every word of it. And I knew that I could pull him down and kiss him hard and he’d still let me walk away. Despite what he said, he’d never force anything on me. But at this moment, he wanted more.
Pressing my hand to his chest, I curled my fingers in his shirt and tilted my head back. “I’m not leaving,” I said to him.
He wasn’t the only one who wanted more.