The Firefly Cafe (Billionaire Brothers, #1)(9)

He liked seeing it, wanted to see more of it. He wanted to see more of her, in general.

In just about every way, she was the polar opposite of … Dylan cut off the thought before the image of his ex-fiancée could form in his mind.

Monique Gallo had been quick to respond to Dylan’s charms, too—but every giggle, every sigh, every moan had been a deliberate move in a game Dylan hadn’t known they were playing until it was almost too late.

Penny’s responses were so unstudied, no artifice or fakery to them at all. And when she looked at him the way she was looking at him now, hazel eyes lit up with happiness and Cupid’s bow mouth quirked into a secret, feminine smile, Dylan knew she meant it.

The knowledge went to Dylan’s head like a shot of smoky sweet bourbon. It brought out conflicting urges in him—made him reckless and hungry with the need to push for more, but it also gave him the less familiar urge to protect her, to move slowly and carefully to keep from bruising this tender thing between them.

Caught between desire and restraint, Dylan stood paralyzed as Penny blushed and self-consciously gathered her dark brown hair into a messy knot on top of her head. Pushing up her sleeves, she snagged a plain blue apron from a hook by the stove.

She whipped it over her head and cinched the tie around her trim waist as she moved toward the cabinet to the right of the fridge, her movements quick and a little jittery, as if Dylan’s presence sparked her nerves.

That was fair, he considered, since she sparked plenty of strange new reactions in him, too.

The loud clatter as Penny removed the pot she wanted from the bottom of a pile of heavy cast iron and aluminum cookware startled Dylan into realizing he’d been standing like a lump, staring at her silently for the past minute. No wonder she was nervous—he was acting like a looming, lurking weirdo.

Shaking his head at himself, he knelt to pack his new tools back into their super fancy carrying case, a plastic shopping bag with a yellow smiley face and HAVE A GOOD DAY printed on it.

“Oh!”

Penny’s sudden exclamation made Dylan look up just in time to see her tripping on the hammer he’d left laying on the floor. She pitched forward and he stood up in a rush to try and catch her, but all he managed was to get his arms around her and turn so that when they hit the ground, he took the brunt of the fall on his back with a solid “Oof.”

“Sorry,” they both said at the exact same time. Dylan broke off sheepishly, kicking one booted foot at the offending hammer, but Penny laughed. Her soft chuckles vibrated through his chest where they were pressed together, moving her lithe, wriggling warmth just enough to remind him that, hello, a beautiful woman was lying on top of him.


“I’m such a klutz,” she groaned, still smiling even though her cheeks were an almost feverish red. “First the iced tea, now this! You’re going to be eligible for combat pay and hazard pay.”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have made such a mess while I was working.”

“Hmm. At least I can get a look at the job you did from down here.” She craned her neck slightly, making a show of seriously examining the sink’s undercarriage. “Yep, dry as a bone. You do good work, Mr. Workman.”

The fake name he’d given her hit him like a slap to the back of the head. Her eyes widened at the pained noise that escaped his throat before he could choke it back.

“Oh my gosh, I must be crushing you! Let me just…”

She squirmed deliciously, trying to find her balance, and every muscle in Dylan’s body went taut and throbbing with expectation. When Penny got her knees under her, straddling his waist, and moved to prop herself up on her hands, Dylan’s arms tightened around her automatically, holding her in place.

“What?” she breathed, staring down at him all pink cheeks and tousled hair. Her mouth was so pink, the bottom lip so delectably plump, it looked as if he’d already kissed her.

Unable to bear it another moment, Dylan reared up to capture that tempting lip between his. He breathed Penny’s gasp into his mouth, and Dylan’s shocked brain finally caught up to his body. He was still for a frozen moment, the hardness of the linoleum at his back and the soft weight of Penny’s body all that kept him tethered in place.

Then she kissed him back. Hesitant, at first, as if she wasn’t sure she ought to be doing this, but when he released that succulent lip and opened his mouth to the tentative sweep of her tongue, Penny caught fire.

Clasping his head between her hands, her fingers tightened so that he felt all ten points of pressure, tilting his face to the best possible angle. He groaned deep in his chest at the clean, freshwater taste of her, with a hint of spearmint, as if she’d brushed her teeth before coming back downstairs.

Dylan shifted his hips to cradle her body between his legs, the resultant squeeze and friction good enough to make his eyes cross. The little breaths Penny hitched against his chest dazzled him. He was pretty sure no one ever breathed so perfectly, with so much unconscious seduction, in the whole history of the world before.

A door closed somewhere in the house, jarring them apart. Penny stared down at Dylan for a long heartbeat, and the way she looked at him cut him off at the knees.

Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, chest heaving—Penny looked stunned, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening.

Dylan swallowed, throat clicking loudly in the heated silence between them, and she pushed up off his chest. For a guy who didn’t believe in guilt or regret, Dylan found himself taking a dive right into it.