Page 46 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband

Neither of us moves toward the papers.

"Tessa," I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

"Yeah?"

"I really want to kiss you right now."

"We should probably sign the papers first. You know, handle the legal stuff like responsible adults."

"Right. Legal stuff."

"Important legal stuff that requires our immediate attention."

"Absolutely critical."

She's already standing up, moving around the table toward me, and when she straddles my lap in the dining chair, I forget what we were just talking about.

"Hi," she whispers, her hands sliding into my hair.

"Hi yourself," I manage, my hands finding her waist under that oversized sweatshirt. Her skin is warm and soft, and when my thumbs brush against her ribs, she shivers.

"We're terrible at being responsible adults," she murmurs against my lips.

"The worst," I agree, then kiss her like I've been thinking about doing since she opened the door.

She tastes like pizza sauce and possibility, and when she makes that small sound in the back of her throat, my brain officially stops functioning. My hands slide up her back, pulling her closer, and she responds by rolling her hips against me in a way that makes me groan into her mouth.

"Bedroom?" she asks breathlessly when we finally break apart.

"Couch is closer," I point out, nodding toward her living room.

She laughs, and the sound makes my chest warm. "I like the way you think, Kingston."

I stand up, lifting her with me, and she wraps her legs around my waist like it's the most natural thing in the world. Three steps to the couch, and I'm sitting down with her still in my lap, my hands already working on getting that sweatshirt over her head.

"Wait," she says, catching my hands. "I want to do something."

"What?"

She grins, walking over to the fridge and coming back with a can of whipped cream in her hand, mischief sparking in her eyes. "Remember how you said watching Fifty Shades was research?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I think it gave me some ideas."

She shakes the can once, pops the cap, and gives me a look that’s pure sin. "Tell me, Mr. Kingston… how do you feel about getting a little messy?"

Jesus Christ. "I feel very positively about getting messy with you, Dr. Bennett."

"Good," she says, and before I can ask what she's planning, she's pulling her sweatshirt over her head.

She's not wearing a bra.

My brain flatlines completely as I stare at her, sitting in my lap in nothing but those yoga pants, her hair falling around her shoulders, completely unselfconscious and absolutely fucking gorgeous.

"You're staring," she observes, but she's smiling.

"I'm appreciating," I correct, my hands coming up to cup her breasts. They fit perfectly in my palms, and when I brush my thumbs over her nipples, she gasps. "God, Tessa, you're perfect."