Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(67)

Her shoulders lowered slowly as she released a breath. “I know this is silly. It’s just a bunch of ingredients being thrown into a bowl, right?”

“Is that how you feel about it?”

“No,” she whispered. “No, it’s more important than that. A pinch too much flour or paprika could throw the whole thing off. And then there’s the way you stir it. The tempo and direction. It’s patience. How you place it on the pan. I’m always just guessing, though. It never comes natural like it did for her.”

“Your mother.” Jasper pressed his face against the side of Rita’s neck, trying to warm her cool skin. “Some people have to work at things, right? Some people have to open a dive bar named for cunnilingus before they get their shit together.”

Her soft hum of appreciation made his eyes drift shut, but they opened again when she moved their stacked hands to the carton, took out an egg, and cracked it into the bowl. She halted her progress just as suddenly, though. “Wait…I forgot to preheat the oven.” When Jasper remained wrapped around her from behind on their way to the oven, each of their hands lifting to set the temperature, Rita broke out into laughter. And somewhere along the way back to their workstation, she stopped shaking. “You’re taking this very seriously.”

“Woman, I don’t fuck around with soufflés.”

“Oh, me, either. I almost stabbed someone over a soufflé once.” Jasper studied her reflection in the kitchen window, saw her expression go from humorous to surprised. “That’s the first time I’ve laughed about it.”

Jasper watched as she cracked another egg into the bowl, then whisked the eggs with a large fork. “How did it feel?”

“Good,” she murmured, transferring their attention to the large saucepan she’d set on the stove, melting a generous amount of butter inside, adding flour when the mixture began to foam. They moved into a side-by-side position, their hips rubbing together as Jasper followed Rita’s quiet but efficient instructions. “Can you grate this cheese?” She watched him perform the task a second before guiding him in an easier way with her own hand. “There,” she breathed, her gaze dipping to his mouth before skating away.

Jasper tried not to stare at her, but, Jesus, it was hard. She was actually transforming right there in his kitchen. The further they got into the process, the more she glowed, the smoother her actions became, until she was this tiny fairy winging around the space in some complicated ballet Jasper could only marvel over. Where had this brilliant goddamn woman been hiding his entire life?

Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me.

He noticed Rita fanning her face, obviously hot from working over the stove. “You want to change into something lighter?” Jasper asked, not surprised at all to find his voice sounding like it was scooping rock-hard ice cream. “A T-shirt of mine, or—”

“No, I think…” Rita’s attention snagged on the outline of his erection, that fleeting glance making him swell even bigger. But she damn near had Jasper reaching into his jeans to beat off when she pulled her next move. With nimble fingers, she pushed each button of the flannel shirt through its respective hole before letting the garment fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a purple-and-white polka-dot thong. “I think I’ll be fine working just like this.”

And then she went back to adding salt to the mixing bowl. As if she hadn’t just aroused him straight into another time zone. “Damn, beautiful. Just…damn.” He took two handfuls of his hair and pulled, just to feel pain somewhere besides his aching groin. Feeling a gravitational pull toward Rita, he moved—or stumbled, really—toward the mesmerizing sight of her slick little body, the smooth globes of her ass. “How much longer until we put the soufflé in the oven?”

“Not long,” she said breezily.

Jasper licked his lips. “Going to need specifics.”

Rita turned, giving Jasper a front-row seat to watch her nipples pout. When her hand drifted over his cock, Jasper cursed under his breath, and he cursed again when Rita smiled. “You look hot, too, Jasper.” A squeezing of his flesh began. Rough and rhythmic. But her gaze was glued to his covered chest. “I could be persuaded to hurry if you got a little more comfortable.”

Jasper had whipped off his T-shirt before Rita finished making the not-so-subtle request. “Look your fill, Rita.” She removed her touch from his dick and he growled in reproof, reaching out to tug a fistful of dark hair. “You’re very brave teasing me like this. Especially when you’ve felt what you’ve got coming in your hand.”

Her nipples visibly straining at Jasper’s words, Rita’s eyes went liquid with an added depth. “I think you make me brave.”

Christ. His palms were sweating, his cock filling up in the thigh of his jeans. But his heart, now that demanded his attention more than anything. I made her brave? Hallelujah, I finally did something right. In that moment, he knew a lifetime of bad decisions was worth that new sparkle in Rita’s gaze as it traced down his stomach, roving over his belt buckle. “Starting now, Rita, for each minute it takes to put that thing in the oven, I’m going to give your incredible ass a slap. You understand me?”

“Yes,” she breathed, turning after a beat passed to add the batter she’d mixed into a baking dish. It gave Jasper an opportunity to appreciate the flexing of her naked thighs, the contours of her perky butt. Sure as shooting, that thong wasn’t leaving this house, because he’d be using it to stroke off for the next forty-odd years. The time he’d been allotted to check out his woman also gave Jasper time to get impatient, unfortunately.