Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(55)

He lifted his head slowly and brushed his hand down the red hourglass in her hair. “Fuck, baby, you kiss like an angel.”


The way she stared up at him, as if he was the only man in the world, as if he could walk on water, took his breath. He touched his forehead to hers, in an effort to keep it together. She didn’t need him attacking her, laying her out like a feast on the kitchen table just the way he fantasized the moment he saw the damn thing.


“What are you doing?”


Her lashes fluttered. She had a light dusting of white powder on the tips. That made him want to kiss her all over again.


“I was cooking you breakfast.” Cayenne sounded annoyed and frustrated all rolled into one. “They have cooking videos on the Internet and I was following the steps, but somehow things didn’t go right. They make it look so easy, Trap. I wanted to make this for you but…”


She turned in his arms and surveyed the chaos along the counter, the still smoking mess that looked to him like it could have been a pancake at one time, and sighed.


“Clearly I did something wrong.”


“Well, babe, first thing to know, when you cook you need to wear an apron. Just that. Nothing else. I’ve got one hanging on the little hook in the pantry here.”


Keeping a straight, serious expression, he walked across the flour-covered floor, leaving footprints behind him. He held up the little black and white apron he’d spotted in one of the online toy stores he’d been looking in right before he’d found her. The apron was lacy and short, very short, with ties in the back and nothing else. The front would cover her breasts, but just barely, and had open French lace so her nipples would peek out at him as she worked.


Cayenne studied the little apron and then her green gaze went to his face. “That’s what I’m supposed to wear when I cook for you?”


“Yes.” He nodded his head. “Exactly.”


“That’s the secret to cooking you something great?”


He nodded again and crossed back to her, thrusting the apron into her hands. “I’ll start the cleanup, and you go put that on. We can cook together and see if that helps.”


“Trap.” She shook her head, half smiling, not really believing him but a little uncertain if he was teasing her or telling the truth. “I’ve never been in a kitchen in my life. Especially when someone was cooking. The food I ate was always the same, some kind of rations, not anything like they have on the Internet. The first time I ate a burger at the Huracan Club, I threw up. The same with the fries. I don’t know anything about this, and I’m trying to learn so I can give you that home you want. I have to rely on you to tell me the truth. None of those people cooking on the videos were wearing a little apron.”


“They aren’t in our kitchen,” he said. “They don’t know what works for us.”


A slow smile curved her mouth, making him want to taste her all over again. There was nothing stopping him so he did, reaching with one hand to curl his fingers around the nape of her neck and pull her to him. Using his thumb under her chin, he tilted her face up and took her mouth. He wasn’t sweet and gentle about it because he didn’t feel sweet and gentle, he felt a little savage. Taking her on the kitchen table was out, not when he felt like this. He wasn’t going to do her rough, not when her first time with him was probably not going to be the best for her.


He poured himself into the kiss, taking her mouth with his own. One hand caught hers and he brought her palm down his chest to the massive hard-on he was sporting. Using his own hand to curl her fingers around his shaft, he kept kissing her, squeezing her fist down tight around him.


That’s yours, baby. All for you. No one else but you. You wake up needing that, you let me know. I want you sleeping next to me, Cayenne. No more hiding down in that basement behind your silk. You. In the bed. With me.


The entire time he filled her mind with him, with his warmth and strength. With his demand. He kept kissing her. Over and over. Using his mouth and his fingers wrapped around hers, doing a lazy slide and pumping gently with her palm so that lightning streaked through him, his blood pounded through his body and centered in his cock. It was the perfect way to start a morning. Hot kisses and her hand wrapped tight around his heavy shaft.


You going to give me that, Cayenne? You. In my bed?


Very slowly he lifted his head and looked down into her eyes. He brought up both hands to frame her face. To hold her still, so she had to look at him. “Are you going to give that to me, baby? Did you think about it last night? Alone. There behind your silk.”


“Where I’m safe,” she said in a small voice.


“Where you’re alone. Existing.”


“Will I be safe with you, Trap? I don’t mean whatever is threatening either of us. Not Whitney. I’m asking will I be safe with you?”


She looked so lost. Very vulnerable. How could a woman be such a warrior, taking on teams of Whitney’s enhanced supersoldiers, yet be so completely defenseless when it came to being a woman? She was beautiful. Seductive. Naturally sensual. She kissed like a dream. She’d given him the best blow job of his life. There was no guile in her. No subterfuge. She wasn’t flirting or trying to be cute and adorable, both of which she was.