Read Online Blush by Cherry Adair - Free Book Online Page B

“That low?” she asked dubiously. It was barely on. They’d be there all day waiting for breakfast at this rate, and she’d melt into a drooling puddle of lust before an egg was cracked.
    His voice, husky and low, was right beside her ear. “As low as it can go.”
    “Won’t it take forever to cook the . . . the . . .” What the hell were they cooking? “Eggs?”
    “What’s your hurry?” His arms came around to cage her against him, one large hand flat on her belly. The heat of his fingers seared right through her cotton T-shirt, making Mia hot, then cold, then hot again. “Stand on your toes.” He waited until she did so before pressing her against his erection with the flat of his large hand low on her belly. “Put the pan on so it heats up slowly.”
    Slightly off balance and all thumbs, Mia fumbled to get a grip on the skillet while he held her immobile, deft fingers opening the top button of her shorts. Surely he wasn’t . . . She wrestled the pan two-handed onto the burner with a loud clatter, so distracted she could barely see, let alone get a grip on the heavy pan.
    Nuzzling her neck, he grazed his teeth along her nape. “Grab the bowl.” When he sank his teeth into her earlobe, sparks zinged directly between her legs. His hot breath made her shiver, and moisture pooled where those hot sparks sizzled. She bit back a moan. She should be galvanized into action. One of them had to be sensible. She stood inches from a hot stovetop. She’d get burned—just because she was captivated by the man seducing her. The kitchen was no place for sex. That’s what her bed was for.
    Six eggs clattered inside the glass bowl as she dragged it closer to the stove. Her movement rubbed her butt enticingly against his erection.
    “Maybe we should take this upstai—”
    He bit her nape hard enough for her to yelp, more with surprise than pain. Although, damn him, it stung.
    “Take them out,” he murmured, as if he hadn’t just assaulted her. “Careful so they don’t roll off the counter.” He licked the sting, which made her shiver, and forget what point she’d been trying to make. “Okay. Now break them— No. Not like that. Here, let me show you.” He demonstrated with one hand, deftly breaking the shell in two, then dropping golden yolk and glistening egg white into the bottom of the bowl. “Now you try. Use both hands. Crack it on the side of the bowl—gently! That’s it. Now the rest. That’ll work. Here, use the shell to get out the broken bits.”
    He slid the towel off his shoulder to wipe his hands in front of her, then tossed it on the counter and slid his fingers under her shirt to rest over her belly again. Oh, God. Bare skin to bare skin. His fingers felt rough and cool on the smooth skin of her belly. Her skin was on fire.
    Her hands weren’t exactly steady, so there were a lot of broken shells in the mixture. It took awhile.
    “That’s good.” He wiped her fingers on a dishcloth. “Drop those cubes of butter into the pan so they can melt while we deal with the eggs.” His other hand skimmed under her shirt, then unfastened the front clasp of her bra.
    “Damn it, you studied for this test,” she said on a half laugh, half sob, as his fingers curled around to cup her breast. His lips feathered down the back of her neck. “With Misty Rosetree as incentive, I practiced on my pillow for weeks when I was in eighth grade.”
    The damp warmth of his tongue teased her skin as he squeezed her nipple until it became a hard, tight bud. The sensation shot directly between her legs, where she was already wet and pulsing. “It”—Mia blinked her fuzzy vision clear—“paid off.”
    “By the time I was proficient . . .” he murmured, as if in casual conversation—as if his fingers weren’t skimming under her skimpy bikini panties so that her entire body buzzed—“she’d started dating the quarterback.”
    “Her . . .” He combed his fingers through her pubic hair. Mia’s face