He couldn’t stop his scowl. “Yes. I was just… How’s your sandwich?”
She laughed again, light and happy. “I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s peanut butter. Kinda hard to screw that up.”
“Yes. That’s true.” He tried to laugh, but he knew it’d sound forced.
“It’s beautiful here. Y’know, I’ve heard teenagers in the area like to sneak up here to skinny-dip.”
His attention riveted on her. “Have you?”
“Me?” Her blush colored her face and raced down her neck beneath the round collar of her dress. Gray tracked the wash of color. Did it spread farther? Did it warm her breasts the way it did her cheeks? Did it warm between her thighs?
“Well, yeah. Once or twice. But it was ages ago. Back when I lived at the cottage with Gran.”
He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The memory of his dream, the reality of her swimming naked, the thoughts and images mixed like an erotic movie in his head.
She took a sip of milk, leaving a thin white mustache lining her top lip when she finished. She licked her lips, but a faint milk line remained. “So why’d you bring me here? This is about Gran’s land, isn’t it? I’m at least right about that.”
“Yes.” He swallowed, his gaze stuck on that line of milk tracing her lip. “I wanted you to see what’s at risk if your grandmother sells.”
“But aren’t you the one trying to buy Granny’s land?”
“No, Maizie. I don’t want Ester to sell to anyone.”
“So then you’re not trying to seduce me?”
Gray opened his mouth but realized he didn’t know the answer. He exhaled. Closed his mouth and looked away. His gaze landed on the pastry box, edges dented, still sitting between their plates.
“You ever going to show me what’s in the box?” he asked. Not the smoothest topic switch, but it’d do.
Maizie blinked, catching up. She straightened. “Oh. It’s…it’s nothing really. I thought I’d bring dessert.”
She opened the box and the heavenly scent of chocolate wafted out.
“Brownies?”
“I hope you like walnuts,” she said.
He smiled, she couldn’t know why. “I do. My mother used to make me brownies. She was a pretty fair baker in her own right. God, I loved helping her.”
“You bake?”
Gray snorted. “Hell no. What I did could never be described as baking. I measured. Stirred the occasional batter. Set the oven temperature. My specialty. Mostly I just watched her.”
“You were close?”
It’d been so long ago. Being a werewolf had extended his lifespan, which meant those memories were even further away. “Yes. We were very close. She passed away years ago, but I can still remember her gliding around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, preparing pans, mixing without ever looking at a recipe. She moved like she was drifting on a cloud. Never a mistake.”
“Did your dad help too?”
Gray scoffed. “No. My father was of the belief that men were men and real men didn’t enter a kitchen except to inform their wife what they wanted for dinner.”
“Wow. How very nineteen fifties of him.”
She was closer than she realized, but Gray kept the information to himself. “Right. A real men-don’t-cry kind of guy. Didn’t matter. I had her. Those hours spent alone with my mother while she baked set me free. I could tell her anything, my fears, my heartbreaks, my dreams, and she never thought less of me. Never made me feel ashamed for not being tough as steel all the time. I…miss that.”
“I know what you mean. Used to bake with my mom too. She made the best chocolate cake. After she passed away, I used to sit in the kitchen for hours with my eyes closed, imagining I could still smell that sweet fresh-baked scent. It was like she was still with me.”
An invisible band squeezed around Gray’s chest. Memories of the night Maizie had lost her mother flashed through his mind. He pushed them away.
“It’s stupid,” she said. “But that’s a big part of why I love baking. Makes me feel like she’s still around. Twisted, huh?”
He reached out, brushed the milk, still a moist line above her lip, away with his thumb. Dear God, her lips were as soft as they looked. His hand slipped along her cheek. “No. It’s incredibly loving. I’m sure she’d be proud of you.”
Maizie’s eyes darkened at his touch. She licked her lip, tracing where his thumb had been. “Maybe we could get together some time and you could, uh, measure for me.”
She laughed and the sound tickled along his skin, made his heart skip.
“I’d like that.”
“Yeah. It’d be nice to share that with someone who, y’know, gets it.” Her smile flickered, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears.
His heart squeezed, muscles going tight wanting to gather her into his arms. Without thinking, his hand slipped to the nape of her neck, pulled her to him. His gaze flicked from those soft lips to her eyes just in time to see them flutter closed, and he took her mouth with his.
Chapter Six
She felt the kiss.
His lips were strong, but so soft. His tongue traced along her bottom lip, teased her tongue, coaxing it into his mouth. And when she slipped it through his lips, he actually made a noise like a purr. The sound vibrated through her body straight down to her sex.
His big hand cupped the back of her neck, kept her pressed to his lips. The position was awkward, leaning over her bent legs. She didn’t care. This felt too wonderful. Tingles rippled over her skin from head to toe, her body warmed so fast she felt flushed.
One hand braced on the table, she reached the other to his cheek. He’d looked clean-shaven but she could still feel the coarse texture of fresh growth beneath her fingers. His cologne filled her nose, sweet, manly, mixed with the earthier scents of nature.
She could taste a hint of scotch on his kiss. Together with his scent and the fast rush of her pulse, it was all Maizie could do not to swoon in his arms.
She shifted, pushing up to her knees and he rewarded her with a harder, stronger kiss. It was so easy, the kiss, the desire. Her body seemed to recognize his touch, warm at the very possibility of it. On her knees, she was a bit taller than him and his hand slipped from her neck to her waist. Still he pulled her to him, as though she’d never be close enough.
Holding her, his free hand smoothed over her ribs to her breast. Maizie’s breath caught even before his palm cupped her, before his fingers squeezed. Every muscle in her body worked for more, more pleasure, more sensation, more.
A quiver tickled through her belly. Her thighs trembled, the muscles in her sex pulsed, flexing wet and needy. She wanted to straddle him, to press her pussy against him, to make it clear what he did to her, what he made her want. What he made her need. The dress was too tight, she’d been lucky to get to her knees.
His hand massaged her breast, found her nipple hard and wanting. He toyed with it, coaxed it to harden more, to press undeniably through the fabric of her bra and dress. Maizie moaned and leaned into his touch, her hips pressing her groin against his chest. She didn’t care where they were, who he was, what he’d done. She wanted
