And yet he picked her a rose with extra care. He’d liked seeing one of his flowers behind her ear the other night. Perhaps he’d get to put this one on her, run his fingers along the delicate shell of her ear, tuck it into her red hair . . .
Throw her down on the table and fuck the hell out of her, make her give those wild, sexy little moans again.
Hunter shook his head, willing the visual out of his mind and for his cock to go down. He took a few moments to compose himself, then entered the dining room they used for their meetings.
It was empty.
She’d called off dinner. She was embarrassed by what she’d done. Disappointment flashed through him, and Hunter moved to the table, picking up the note there.
Dinner’s running late. I’m in the kitchens. G.
Immediately, he headed for the kitchens, hope putting a spring in his step. She wasn’t avoiding him, then. He adjusted his collar, finding it rather warm in the house, and played with the cuffs of his shirt as he entered the kitchen, rose in hand.
He didn’t see her at first. The delicious scent of baking bread filled the air, but he could see no one. His gaze scanned the kitchen and disappointment flared again.
Then Hunter noticed her bent over, her lovely ass flexing as she pulled something out of the oven. He immediately went hard again, longing tearing through him.
God, he wanted her.
“Oh! Hey,” Gretchen said, turning and closing the door to the oven with her foot. “Sorry about this. I thought the roast would be ready in a half hour, but it’s still looking a little pinker than I’d like, so we need to give it a bit more time. That’s why I’m still in here.” She set the bread pan on the counter and smiled at him. “Hope you don’t mind filling up on bread and appetizers until it’s done.”
He gave a brief, jerky nod, unable to take his eyes off her smiling face.
“Is that for me?”
“What?” He glanced down and noticed he was still clutching t
he pale yellow rose he’d picked for her. “Yes,” he said, internally wincing at the brusque tone of his voice.
“The bud’s tight on this one,” she said, pulling off her oven mitts and taking the flower from him. She lifted it to her nose and closed her eyes, giving a slight groan of pleasure that made him tense with anticipation all over again. “Smells wonderful.”
“Yes,” he said again. He didn’t know what else to say. He was mesmerized by her.
As he watched, she lifted the rose and brushed the rosebud against her full lower lip. “Soft.”
His cock jerked. The way she’d moved it against her lips made him think of yesterday. Oh, fuck.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Ready for dinner?”
“I . . .” He couldn’t go anywhere. Not with this aching hard-on. Couldn’t sit with her and pretend that he wasn’t ready to spill in his pants. “No. I must go.”
And before she could protest, he walked out of the kitchen.
Like a fucking coward. A fucking coward who needed an ice-cold shower to get his cock back under control.
***
Gretchen was getting frustrated.
She sighed and flopped down on the couch in the library, glaring up at the blue mural on the ceiling.
She’d thought their little interlude in the greenhouse would make him open up to her a bit more. Get him to bend a bit. She wanted more from him. Last night, she’d dreamed of kissing him for hours. Nothing else but just sitting in each other’s arms, exploring each other’s lips as if not a care in the world.
She wanted that. She wanted to kiss Hunter, and so much more.
But she hadn’t seen him for two days. She’d invited him to dinner and he’d declined. Was he done with her now that she’d gone down on him?
It didn’t make sense. Every instinct she had about men—and she’d dated around quite a bit during her college days—told her that Audrey had nailed it and he was a virgin. It explained his reactions perfectly, his wariness any time she came on to him.