you say it.” She wet her lips. “You make it sound sexy and a little bossy.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “I tend to be bossy.”
“I like it.”
“Do you? Is that one of your turn-ons?” God, he could boss her around all fucking night long.
“I don’t know. There isn’t a single guy in this town—in this county—who would be bossy with me.”
“No? Why’s that?” His palm itched to reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear.
“Because they’ve known me forever,” she said, lifting her shoulder. “Because they know my family and it would feel disrespectful maybe? Or because they know my friends and are afraid they’d kick their asses?”
“Or because they think they know you, and you’ve always been sweet and friendly, and you probably helped them with their homework or worked on a school play or at a fair stand with them or went to Sunday school with them, and they can’t imagine saying something like, put your hands on the counter, bend over, and let me lick your pussy,” Grant said.
Her eyes flared with surprise and heat. She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, maybe that.”
“Then it’s a good thing I came along. Because I have no qualms about saying that to you.”
4
“Wow.” Jocelyn practically breathed the word. “First it was catching me from falling and then it was the potatoes. I didn’t even know that there was all of this to look forward to.”
“This?” he asked.
“The dirtiness. The confidence. The bossiness.”
He nodded. “There’s a lot of all of that.”
“That’s so good.” She said it with just a touch of wonder.
“What about the potatoes?” he asked with a frown.
“You’re sexy when you eat potatoes.”
“Am I?” That wasn’t something he’d ever heard before.
She shrugged. “To me.”
He leaned in. He towered over her and found he loved the size difference between them. He loved how little she was and the images of lifting her up and putting her on the counter or against the wall. Or throwing her over his shoulder and heading for her bedroom. But no, he really did want to lick chocolate cake batter from her tits first.
He ignored the niggle that said she makes you feel possessive and protective. It was just the alpha-manly-testosterone thing that was rushing through him with all the sex talk and knowing she liked being bossed. Or would like it. Or thought she’d like it.
He loved the idea that other men hadn’t been like that with her. These small-town farmer guys had probably been nice and gentlemanly toward her. Which was great. In fact, they better fucking have been. She deserved that. But if she wanted a little dominating, he was happy to oblige. It didn’t mean he felt anything soft or serious for her. In fact it was the opposite, right? Bossing her around? Being dirty with her? Those were the opposite of soft. He liked being in charge. So he could give her a little of that while he was in town. Then she could go back to the nice guys, and one of them could get her a white picket fence and a puppy.
“Jocelyn,” he said, making sure his voice sounded gruff and a little firm.
“Yes?”
“Make us some chocolate cake batter to play with.”
Play. And sex. While talking about dominating her. It didn’t seem like all of that should go together. Play and sex didn’t really go together for him usually. He just didn’t… play. In general. Much.
Dax made sure he did some. But women never did. He dated sophisticated women who liked sophisticated things. Being covered in chocolate cake batter didn’t seem very sophisticated. But he’d been absolutely honest when he’d told Jocelyn that he’d been having very specific fantasies about her and baked goods.
And she was the type to play. To giggle and tease with chocolate and Lord knew what other fun, sweet, sticky stuff.
As evidenced by the, “Yes, sir,” she gave him and the smile she flashed as she turned toward the worktable and started pulling ingredients toward her and mixing them up.
He braced a hand on the table and leaned his hip into the edge, settling in to watch her. “You don’t seem to be having trouble remembering how to put this all together now,” he commented, watching her confident moves.
“I guess I’m very focused now,” she said, grabbing the whisk and beating the buttermilk and vanilla together.
“But I’m still here.”
She nodded, reaching for the hand mixer and turning to plug it into the outlet behind her. “And I’m very motivated to