they were both a little breathless, and the way she stared at him—a little dazed, her mouth wet and shiny from his kiss—made him want to fucking beat his chest. He’d been worried Jane might suffer some kind of buyer’s remorse. A morning-after oops and try to back pedal, try to establish some boundaries, talk about a slip-up that shouldn’t be repeated.
But that wasn’t the way she was looking at him. She didn’t look one and done.
“I missed you this morning,” he said, his eyes on her delectably wet mouth.
“I’m sorry… I had to be back in bed for when Finn woke up.”
“Yeah. I know. What time did you leave?”
“About three.”
“You should’ve woken me.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “For a goodbye kiss?”
“Sure. Or, you know—” He grinned. “Whatever.”
She smiled, and Cole dropped his mouth to hers. She tasted like coffee and smelled like soap, and her hair was up in a ponytail, and he wanted to pull it out and tangle his fingers in its richness. He wanted to pull her T-shirt up and fill his palms with her breasts. He wanted to turn her around, bend her over the sink, and push his aching cock inside her.
He wanted this woman. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any other woman. He’d spoken last night about not finding someone he cared about more than his career, but, right now, in this kitchen on the other side of the world, it was possible he just might have found her.
It was very possible Cole wanted Jane Spencer even more than playing rugby for the Sydney Smoke. And fucking hell if that didn’t blow his mind.
Little footsteps clomping down the staircase penetrated their clinch, and Cole stepped back reluctantly. His arse was hitting the central bench just as Finn bounded into the room sans Carl. “I’m ready, Cole. Let’s go.”
“Finn.” Jane wiped her hands on the nearby dishcloth, turning her attention to her son like she’d flipped a switch into mommy mode.
It probably shouldn’t have been a turn-on.
“You still have half your breakfast to eat, and Cole hasn’t even gotten to his yet. So cool your jets and finish your oats.”
Finn followed the direction of his mother’s fingers as she pointed at the bowl on the bench top. He huffed at Jane impatiently, obviously chafing against her rules, and Cole couldn’t blame him. He remembered his mother constantly putting the brakes on him and how frustrating that had been.
Who wanted to eat when there were balls to kick?
But then Finn either thought better of complaining or remembered he was still hungry and jogged to the chair, practically levitating into it.
Cole smiled to himself but didn’t make any comment as he grabbed some bread and popped four slices in the toaster, then ambled to the coffee machine, passing perilously close to Jane at the sink in the process. “You up for some cooking, Finn?” he asked as he poured himself a mug. “When we get back from the park.”
“Oh, yes!”
Cole didn’t have to be facing him to know Finn had just pumped his fist in the air. It seemed to be the boy’s go-to celebration move.
“What are we going to cook?” Finn asked.
“Anzac bikkies.”
Finn frowned. “What are Anzac bikkies?”
“Bikkies are what we call cookies where I’m from, and these ones are made with sugar and treacle and oats. I’ll check we have all the ingredients before we leave.” He turned and leaned casually against the bench just near the coffee machine, deliberately not looking in Jane’s direction. He wanted this thing too much, and he didn’t want to scare Jane off. “Have another floor picnic with your mum.”
That suggestion was met with much rapture on Finn’s behalf. “Oh yes, please, Mommy?”
Jane’s response was more measured. “Another floor picnic, huh?”
He shrugged. “You gotta eat, right?
“Yeah, Mommy. And I love cooking. And eating cookies. Cole does, too, don’t you, Cole?”
“Oh, yes,” Cole murmured, his gaze meeting hers, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I love to eat.”
She suppressed a smile. “Oh, really?”
Cole’s smile morphed to a grin as he nodded enthusiastically. Yes, fucking really. “I could do it all day. And night.”
Her quirked eyebrow left him in no doubt she knew he wasn’t talking about milk and cookies, and he grinned bigger. It wasn’t that long ago they both had their prickles out, and now they were using code to talk cunnilingus in front of her kid.
“That sounds…fattening.”
A picture of him lazily feasting away between her legs made things uncomfortably tight inside his shorts,