State of Grace by Delia Foster

intervene and set him straight now, she would be well on her way, albeit an orgasm-laden way, to hell.
    Firmly decided, she went to go find him so she could calmly request that he leave and never contact her again. They’d have to figure out a way to either share or interact with the family, but they were both adults. There was no reason they couldn’t find a way to work around this, she reasoned.
    As soon as she stepped into the hallway, she was immediately distracted by the luscious scent of coffee wafting through the air. She wandered towards the kitchen, where she found him pulling various spices out of her cabinets and lightly shaking them over two steaming mugs. He caught sight of her when he turned to open the stainless steel fridge door, and he winked.
    The gall.
    “Make yourself at home why don’t you,” she said snidely.
    “Already did, thanks,” he said cheerfully, topping off each mug with a generous serving of milk. He placed one of the mugs in her hand. “Drink.”
    She sniffed at the liquid. It smelled good. It smelled really good. As much as she needed him out, she wanted to taste this concoction more. A few more minutes before kicking him out wouldn’t hurt. She brought the cup to her lips and tipped the steaming liquid into her mouth.
    Sweet, spicy goodness flooded her mouth, and she couldn’t help herself from moaning, just a little. She sipped again before she noticed he was grinning at her.
    Immediately suspicious, she narrowed her eyes at him before she set the cup down. “What’s in that?” she demanded.
     “Milk, brown sugar, cinnamon, vanilla, a little chocolate syrup, and some of the dark roast you had sitting in the cupboard. It’s called a Mexican coffee.”
    “What else?”
      His smile turned wicked. “Come on Gracie. Don’t worry, I’m not drugging you. You know that you don’t need much convincing to let me into your bed.”
    She was going to throw the cup of steaming delight at him if she didn’t occupy herself with something else to do, so she snatched her mug and took a healthy sip. Her stomach grumbled, and she morosely wondered if he was good at making anything else.
    “What’s your specialty, Gracie?  I made you coffee, you make me breakfast. Tit for tat.” It seemed his mind was on his appetite, too.
    She sipped at her coffee, refusing to look at him. “I’m not making you anything. You need to leave, and this needs to stop.”
    He sighed dramatically. “This again? Will you at least feed me before you try to kick me out?”
    She set her cup down, and stomped over to where he stood in front of the fridge. He looked at her eagerly, but she dashed his hopes when she pushed him out of the way and grabbed a box of frozen waffles from the freezer compartment. She tossed them on the countertop and grabbed a banana for herself.
    “I’m going to my room. The waffles take less than three minutes to toast. You have five minutes to eat and five more to leave. Be out of here in less than fifteen.”
    He caught her hand and whirled her around to face him. “What, no fluffy omelets and bacon?  No pancakes drenched in syrup? Look at how many times you came, and this is what I get?”
    Her stomach grumbled at the mention of omelets, bacon, and pancakes. The happy place between her thighs pulsed at the mention of coming, but she tried to ignore it. “It’s not like I asked for it!  Pushy bastard, why can’t you just leave me alone?”
    His eyes darkened, and he smirked as he lowered his mouth to hers. He kept it there, not kissing her, just touching his lips to hers. “You sure as hell didn’t ask for it, baby. You begged.  Besides, you seemed to like me when I’m pushy,” he huskily reminded her.
    His teasingly seductive words left her feeling both outraged and uncomfortably aroused.
    Unbelievable .
    Her brain was at war with her vagina.
    Mentally cursing her nether regions, she was working up to a scream when her stomach