right,” I said, nodding, my heart pounding against my chest. I tangled my fingers in his hair, drawing him to my mouth. “I bet I could ask you for anything right now, and you’d give it to me.”
“Someone thinks highly of herself,” he teased, grazing his nose along the line of my jaw.
I arched into the innocent touch, tracing my free hand over the thin fabric of his shirt, delighting in the muscles bunching beneath. “Well, that is your fault,” I said.
He grazed his teeth over the seam of my neck, and warm chills burst along my skin. “Really?” he whispered. “Why is that?” He gripped my hips, tugging my ass to the edge of that counter, right against him.
“Because,” I breathed the word, shuddering from the feel of him against me. “You make me feel like a goddess.” And that was the damned truth. I’d come alive under him, atop him, beside him. Whether we were fucking or binge-watching, next to him, I practically sparkled. He challenged me, listened to me, understood me. He made me laugh and moan and all the things in between. I’d never had anything like this.
“You are,” he growled against my skin, planting kisses over my collarbone. I pushed my chest out, giving him better access, and trembled as his head lowered toward my breasts. “Beautiful, smart, funny,” he said, and sealed each word with a kiss. “A pain in the ass most days,” he teased. “But you’re mine.”
I rocked against him, shamelessly seeking that spark already igniting between us—
A sharp beeping sounded, and I jolted against him. The timer for the cookies blared throughout the kitchen, and Jansen barked out a laugh. He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t move,” he ordered, stepping out from between my thighs and heading across the kitchen. He grabbed an oven mitt from the drawer and pulled the cookies out of the oven. He smirked as he set the baking sheet on the stove. “Snickerdoodles,” he said, nodding like he knew he’d been right. He tossed the mitt onto the counter, returning to me in a blink. “I guess I should thank you,” he said, the warmth from his body settling against me again.
I grinned, wrapping my arms around his neck as he picked up where he’d left off, smoothing his hands over my thighs, planting my skin with teasing kisses. “You don’t have to thank me,” I said, nearly sighing the words. He loved to torture me, sometimes for hours. He would tease and play and touch me until I felt like a bottle of champagne ready to pop. “I love making you happy,” I admitted, my head spinning from everywhere he touched, teased.
He stilled slightly between my legs and drew his face back to mine. Perched on the counter, he was still taller than me, but his gaze burned. There was such…gratitude and shock and wonder in those eyes. Something I caught in rare instances as if he wasn’t used to that kind of affection, that kind of compassion.
“Jansen,” I said, my voice softening. “What’s that look?”
He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes closing like an instinct had told him to hide.
“Talk to me,” I said, every sensation in my body switching from hungry to hopeful. We’d grown so close this last month, and yet there were still so many pieces of him I didn’t understand.
“You do make me happy,” he said, eyes still closed. “Are you happy with me, London?” he asked, drawing back enough to look at me again.
“You know I am,” I said, not at all frustrated with the question. I would tell him over and over again, I would show him as many times as I needed to until he understood that he was everything.
“Then why can’t we tell anyone?”
It was my turn to go utterly still. This conversation we’d had just once before. “You know why,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Our jobs—”
“If we’re honest, we might not get in as much trouble as you think.”
“I know,” I said, understanding his point. And I wanted to tell everyone. Wanted to be open about the joy Jansen brought to my life. “But I’m just finding my rhythm with my position,” I said, and he cocked a brow at me.
“You have excellent rhythm,” he said, gripping my hips again to jerk me against him. I hissed at the contact, warmth dancing along my spine.
“And you know Langley and Persephone warned me about dating the players,” I continued.