“Graham, the stove,” I break in, jabbing a finger at the skillet, where tendrils of brown smoke are quickly turning black. “Your pancakes are burning.”
Graham whirls around. “Shit.” He snatches the entire pan—charred mess and all—from the stove and practically tosses it into the sink before turning on the water, sending the smell of soggy, burning batter whooshing through the kitchen.
“Exhaust!” I hurry around the island and flip the exhaust switch. Immediately, the cloud of smoke begins to clear.
I turn to Graham, who is looking positively sheepish with his spatula in one hand and a potholder in the other, and I burst out laughing. “Give me that.” I take his spatula and use it to make shooing motions. “Make way for a professional. You clearly need a proper class in when to flip your pancake.”
His brows bob playfully up and down. “That sounds dirty. I didn’t know you wanted to flip my pancake.”
“Oh, but I do,” I say in my best sexy voice, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I grab the least offensive bowl of batter from the counter. “Get me a fresh skillet, baby. The student is about to become the teacher.”
Graham offers a snappy salute. “Yes, ma’am. One fresh skillet coming up.”
Ten minutes later, I’ve instructed my eager pupil in the proper temperature, timing, and flipping technique to achieve perfectly browned pancakes every time. And I actually manage to get a small stack of ready-to-eat hotcakes stacked on a plate next to the stove before Graham circles his arms around me, and my devotion to the curriculum begins to wander.
“You are so hot right now.” His fingers slip beneath my T-shirt to skim my ribs as he kisses my neck. “All bossy, taking charge of my kitchen . . .”
“Someone had to take you in hand.” I bite my lip as his palms glide higher. “You’re clearly a pancake-flipping virgin.”
“You’re so right.” He cups my breasts, making my next breath rush in on a gasp of awareness as his thumb brushes across my nipple. “And so generous and patient with me. I wonder how I can ever repay you.”
Flipping off the heat to the burner, I lean against him, offering him unimpeded access, glancing over my shoulder to meet his gaze as I whisper, “I have a few ideas about repayment.”
“Oh, yeah?” He somehow manages to maintain his innocent expression even as he rolls my nipples harder, making me fight to hold in a moan. “Might they have anything to do with a lesson in up-against-the-refrigerator sex?”
I lick my lips, pressing them tight together as hunger floods my every cell. “I think refrigerator sex is a good start. Though, I may require further payment after breakfast. I have some questions about alternative uses for maple syrup that I would like to explore.”
Graham makes a contemplative sound deep in his throat. “Tell me more.”
But before I can answer, and tell him exactly what I have in mind for syrup, he’s captured my mouth with his, sending the taste of sweet, sugary coffee and Graham flooding through my mouth.
And it is as fantastic as always.
The best taste. My favorite taste.
Pancakes are definitely going to have to wait.
Chapter Twenty-One
CJ
The lesson in alternative uses for syrup goes well—very well, if I do say so myself. By the time I’m finished with Graham, he’s so useless I have to bring his plate of pancakes to him on the kitchen floor and feed him syrup-soaked pieces until he recovers his strength.
“You’re such a drama king,” I tease as I pop a bite between his lips before stabbing another triangle for myself.
He smiles, his eyes closed as he chews. “Am not. This is what happens to a man when you give him the best blow job of his life.” He continues before I can challenge the truth of that statement. “Besides, I’m conserving my energy for the afternoon’s adventures.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, intrigued. “And what might those be?”
His eyes open in a sleepy, sexy way that makes my body start to hum again. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise. Something to push us both out of our comfort zones. It’s going to be fun.”
I arch an eyebrow, unsure what he’s getting at. “If you say so.”
“But you will need to dress for moderate to strenuous physical activity in the out of doors.”
My brows lift. “You want to go outside?”
“Hard to conduct the lesson I have in mind in an apartment.”