"Ah, I am going to assume you guys don't have home cooked meals often."
"I mean, what Seeley throws together."
"Unseasoned steak and a side of greasy freezer fries?" I said, shaking my head. "That's not exactly cooking."
"Was it really that good?" Huck asked, glancing at his men, looking like a little kid who had missed the ice cream truck.
"Yeah," McCoy told him, seeming to enjoy teasing Huck.
"Are you going to cook again?" Huck asked, looking over at me.
"If the mood strikes," I said, shrugging, deciding I was enjoying teasing him a bit too.
As a whole, he seemed so stalwart, so unflappable. It was entertaining to see him looking worked up about something. And it was hilarious that that thing was a meal he'd missed.
"How long might that be?"
"I don't know, " I said, shrugging, making my way out of the room. "But maybe next time you can be awake for it," I added, smiling as I went up the stairs toward the second floor.
For such a big man, he could move as quietly as a cat when he wanted to. I had no idea he was following me until the door slammed behind me after I'd gone into my room.
"What..." I started, turning, heart tripping into overdrive.
Sure, things had been calm. There hadn't been any more drive-bys, anyone getting hit with rocks, but a part of me was still on edge when there were sudden noises.
"So," Huck said, leaning back against my bedroom door, giving me that cocky little smile of his. "What kind of mood do you have to be in to cook again?" he asked.
"What?" I asked, shaking my head.
"What kind of mood do you need to be in to cook again? Need some complimenting? Some help with something?" he asked, pushing off the door, making his way toward me, head dipped down to keep my eye contact. "Or do you need to come so hard you forget what day of the week it is?" he asked, his front pressing into mine, making me take a step back. "Yeah, I think that's what it would take," he said, seeing something in my gaze that I meant to hide from him.
The fact that I had been having more than a few vivid sex dreams about him. And maybe even some fully awake sex fantasies.
What can I say? He was the ultimate hot bad boy with an underlying goodness.
And, well, I'd accidentally caught him with his shirt off more than a few times now which wasn't helping my resolve to keep my hands off of him.
I mean, the man had the kind of abs you wanted to lick something off of. Whipped cream chocolate sauce, his own damn sweat after working out, I wasn't picky.
We didn't even need to talk about his arms. Or his back. Or his ass. Good, God, his ass.
"Huck..." I said, shaking my head because my lips refused to say the words my mind told me I was supposed to say.
"You tell me with any kind of honesty that you don't want me, and I'm out, babe," he told me. "Won't stand here like this again," he added, his hand moving out, resting on the side of my neck, gliding down. "Won't touch you like this," he said, fingertips gliding over my clavicle. "Or this," he went on when my breathing went fast and shallow, his fingertip grazing over my hardening nipple. He teased over it, making it tighten, press against the fabric of my shirt. "And definitely not this," he said, hand leaving my breast to press between my thighs, making me do a sharp intake of breath.
His air rushed out of his nose as his fingers shifted, finding my clit through my leggings and panties, dragging a choked whimper out of me.
"You want me to stop?" he asked, a question and somehow a challenge at the same time, daring me to deny what it was clear my body wanted.
"No," I admitted, my gaze holding his as his finger started to work circles over my clit with a practiced perfection. My forehead pressed into his shoulder, my eyes drifting closed, slipping into the moment, into the sensations.
Huck's free hand went to the back of my neck for a long moment as his hand moved upward, slipping under my panties, gliding over my cleft with nothing in the way, dragging a moan out of me and a rumbling, approving sound out of him.
Huck's thumb went to my clit as his other fingers slid down,