Page 18 of The Live-In Temptation (Steele Brothers of Starlight Cove #2)

I wanted to slide my fingers into that mass of hair, tip her head back, and capture those lips with mine. Slip my tongue inside her mouth. See if she tasted as sweet as I knew she would. See if she was a moaner or a whimperer when she had the hell kissed out of her.

“Emma asked me to teach you how to do her hair, remember?” Chloe said, reminding me what the hell we were doing here in the first place. “Are you ready to learn?”

My throat went dry at what she was suggesting we do. Here. Now .

“On you?” I croaked, my voice sounding like death warmed over.

She shot me a smirk that was pure trouble. “I might be younger than you, but I’m sure there are things I can teach you.”

She was talking about hair, nothing more. But the tone of her voice and the way she was staring at me with those pouty lips and those fuck-me eyes said something else entirely.

Something I wanted to explore.

Something I absolutely should not explore.

I didn’t say anything, but she must’ve seen the acquiescence in my expression. She turned her back to me and finger-combed through her hair, the unruly strands becoming controlled far easier than I would’ve thought.

I stepped in close—too fucking close, considering I was her boss—and inhaled deeply. I didn’t know if it was her shampoo or her body wash or just her , but her scent nearly did me in. Something soft and fresh.

Sunshine, somehow, even in February.

Reaching up, I gathered her hair in my hands, my fingers brushing her nape. A shiver stole through her at the brief touch, and I shouldn’t have liked that as much as I did.

And my dick definitely needed to settle the fuck down about it.

Her hair was thick and so fucking soft. I couldn’t help but think of it gathered in my fist while I guided her mouth over my cock. While I fucked her from behind.

“Split the hair into three equal pieces,” she said, interrupting my thoughts, and not a moment too soon. Her voice was rough, illustrating just how much this was affecting her too, and that wasn’t helping matters.

She guided me through the braid—left over middle, right over middle, repeat. Her voice was soft and gentle and far more intimate than it should’ve been while discussing a hairstyle.

When I finished the braid—lopsided and pathetic-looking, but a million times better than I’d ever done before—and tied it off, Chloe turned to face me, leaning back against the counter.

I could have stepped back.

I should have.

But I didn’t. I just stood there. Near enough that I could feel the heat pouring off her body. And if she stepped even an inch closer, she’d feel exactly what she did to me.

“You’re turning out to be different than I expected,” I said, breaking the silence.

She lifted a brow as she stared up at me. “Is that a good thing?”

No, it fucking wasn’t a good thing.

Because it had been a hell of a lot easier to deny this pull I felt between us when I’d been able to put her squarely inside a neat little box labeled in bold, permanent marker: TRAINWRECK.

Instead of saying any of that, I braced my hands on the counter on either side of her hips and leaned toward her, the magnetic draw between us too much to ignore even a second longer.

She pressed a hand against my chest, and though I was sure she was going to use it to push me away or pause my descent, she didn’t. Clutching my T-shirt in her fist, she tugged me down toward her mouth and lifted onto her tiptoes to meet me halfway.

And then, suddenly, we were kissing, her lips under mine and her little body tucked up right against me.

It started soft. Slow. Tentative. But the second her tongue swiped across my lower lip, all bets were off.

I groaned into her mouth and cupped her face as I deepened the kiss, licking my way inside. Her moans only spurred me on as she met my tongue stroke for stroke, her sounds making me even harder for her.

“Xander,” she breathed, my name on her lips like a fucking prayer I was desperate to answer.

What the hell was this woman doing to me?

When she wrapped an arm around my neck and tugged me down, I couldn’t stop myself from satisfying her unspoken plea.

Closer.

Without breaking the kiss, I reached down, gripped her waist, and lifted her onto the counter. Then I stepped between those thighs I couldn’t stop thinking about and ground my cock against her.

Her pussy was so hot, I could feel the heat of it through her pajama shorts and my joggers.

But I wanted to feel it. Wanted to reach between us and see if she was as wet as I was hard.

Wanted to sink my cock inside her until she thought she couldn’t take any more and then coax her to take the rest. I wanted to hear my name on her lips again, but this time while I was thrusting deep.

Wanted to hear her scream it. Wanted to?—

“ Daddy ?” Emma called from upstairs, and I jerked away from Chloe as if I’d been electrocuted.

We were both breathing hard, our chests heaving as we stared at each other in the near-dark, a thousand unspoken things hanging in the silence between us. But two main points flashed through my mind unrelentingly.

First—that was the hottest kiss of my life.

Second—and more importantly—that was a mistake. A colossal fuckup I couldn’t afford.

When Emma called for me again, I gave Chloe one last look before turning on my heel and leaving without a word. All the while, the image of her standing there—utterly wrecked by my hands and utterly confused by my actions—was burned into my brain.