Can't Slow Down - Lizzie Hart Stevens Page 0,8

and I’m wet just thinking about it.

Maybe getting lost in a moment of bliss with Coen will help distract my mind from worrying. I stand up to grab the empty plates and clear the table, but when I glance over at Coen, his cock is standing at attention and straining against his boxer briefs. I can’t help but stop dead in my tracks.

He quickly pulls me into his lap and I yelp, “Coen! You’re going to make me drop these plates!” He has one arm around my waist and uses his other hand to take the plates from me one at a time and sets them back down onto the table.

“You think you’re stuffed now, sweet cheeks. Wait until I get you back into that bed.” He winks at me and smirks as he slowly slides his hand up the inside of my thigh, slipping his middle finger under the side of my panties and between my wet heat. His other hand slides up my neck and fists the back of my hair, pulling me into a passionate kiss. His hands are saying he wants to ravage my body but his lips are trying to be gentle. I relax into him and moan in ecstasy. I need this. I need to get lost in him.

A short moment later he breaks our kiss and with lust-filled eyes he groans as he sucks my juices from his fingertips.

“Mmm, damn, Lexi. So fucking good.”

Taking my head in his hands, and placing his forehead against mine, he sighs.

“I’m sorry, sweetness. I just can’t keep my hands off you. I’m thinking with my balls and not my brains today. You should be resting.”

Coen kisses me and tenderly lifts me off of his lap. I’m not sure whether I’m pissed off or impressed that a man has thought about putting my own needs before his own. He starts cleaning up the dishes.

“Why don’t you go on back to bed and relax and I’ll clean this up real quick,” he suggests.

He looks so sexy standing at my sink, his boxer briefs snug against his firm ass. It isn’t helping to calm the fire he already started when he pulled me into his lap. His back muscles are covered with tattoos and are so defined. I’m convinced that a fit, tattooed man washing the dishes in his underwear has got to be one of the hottest things on this planet.

Coen told me to go back to bed, but I plan on having a surprise waiting for him when he returns from the kitchen. I walk into the bedroom and over to my dresser, opening drawer after drawer trying to find anything even remotely sexy to put on.

I really need to go shopping, apparently.

I settle on my only matching bra and panties set. They are teal and trimmed in black lace. Just as I’m closing the draw the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a shiver runs down my spine. I turn around quickly, expecting and hoping to see Coen standing there, but there’s no one. Glancing to my left I notice the window is open just a crack. Maybe Coen opened it when he got up this morning.

Calm down, Lexi. You’re just on edge because of Patrick’s bullshit yesterday. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for the window being open.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the paranoid thoughts that are starting to creep in. What if Coen didn’t open the window? What if it was Patrick? What if he snuck inside the house while Coen and I were having breakfast? I quickly check my closet and under my bed. There’s no one in either place. And I just realized how badly I need to sort through my messy closet. I take a big deep breath. I have to get past this. I change into the bra and panties and lie down on the bed, propped up against the headboard.

Hurry up, Coen. Please.

The blinds are open just enough where I can see across the street over to Derek’s place. He’s outside washing his truck. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the trees are swaying in the gentle breeze. All seems to be right in the world. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Coen’s here. Derek is home across the street. I am safe.

Suddenly I feel the air shift around me and my pulse starts to quicken. My eyes shoot open to see Coen standing next to the window