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“Move in. With me.” His fingers tighten around the dish towel. “I mean… if you want to. Half your shit’s already taking over my closet, and I…” He hesitates. A rare thing for Brandon Milton. “I want you there. Officially. Every morning. Every night.”
Our eyes lock. His, raw and hopeful. Mine, probably shining with something dangerously close to tears.
I pretend to think about it. “That ugly-ass vase has to go.”
“Which one?”
“The blue monstrosity in the living room. The one that looks like a drunk toddler made it.”
His lips twitch. “It’s my mother’s vase.”
“Shit.” I bite my lip. “I didn’t.”
“I’m fucking with you.” He pulls me closer, laughing against my hair. “Elijah bought it. Said it was ‘modern art’ or some pretentious bullshit.”
“So it can go?”
“Already planning to redecorate?”
“Please. I’ve been planning to throw that thing out since the first time I saw it. About that salt shaker collection…”
“Touch my salt shakers, and you’re sleeping on the couch.”
“Our couch.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes.” My mouth finds his ear, my lips barely skimming the shell. “Isn’t that something we should celebrate?”
His voice goes rough, scraping against my nerves. “What did you have in mind?”
I press closer, inhaling the lingering scent of garlic and herbs clinging to him. “I want you to ruin me on every surface of this kitchen.”
He surges forward. Hard. Fast. His mouth on mine, and his hands claiming my ass with bruising force. “Cupcake.” The growl vibrates against my lips. “You can’t say shit like that.”
“You’ve been cooking all day.” I drag my nails down his chest, feeling his muscles jump beneath the fabric. “Time for dessert.”
“You trying to give me orders in my kitchen?”
“Our kitchen. And maybe I am.”
“Dangerous game, cupcake.”
“I like dangerous.” I pop the first button of his jacket. “Especially with you.”
He pushes me against the steel prep table, mouth crashing back to mine. I arch into him, desperate for more contact.
“We should probably—” He groans when I grind against him.
“If you say stop, I swear to God?—”
“Health code violations.”
I yank him closer by his collar. “You really want to talk about health codes right now?”
“Good point.” His hands slide under my dress, bunching the fabric higher. “You sure about this?”
“Brandon.” Another button falls victim to my fumbling fingers while his lips trace my neck. “I want you. Here. Now.”