Wicked All Night by Shayla Black Page A

rounded the corner and had a straight sightline into the kitchen. But he didn’t see anyone attacking Rachel. Rather, she attacked a plastic bin of flour and a couple of eggs while wrestling with a stainless steel bowl. A can of nonstick cooking spray rolled down the counter. She slammed down a wooden spoon, looking beyond frustrated.
    Actually, it was kind of adorable.
    Until she emerged from behind the tall counter and he realized she was wearing a frilly red apron, a pair of black stilettos—and nothing else.
    He wanted to fuck her right now.
    Darting back into the bathroom, he grabbed his jeans and flipped them over his pistol, hiding the piece, then sauntered down the hall and set everything down within easy reach—just in case—on the adjacent kitchen table.
    â€œThat looks mighty good,” he drawled.
    She blinked up at him, flushed and flustered. “Pancakes will be ready soon.”
    â€œI meant you, beautiful. Forget food right now. I’d rather fuck you.”
    And he didn’t take no for an answer; snagging one arm around her waist and dragging her against his body, he dropped a hard kiss across her lips. Jesus, she smelled sweet. She’d brushed her teeth and pulled her artless curls into some half-up, half-down ’do that made him want to mess it up with his fingers.
    He claimed her lips, sinking into her mouth and delivering a long, slow kiss of good morning. Rachel melted against him, opened wide to let him in, and gave as good as she got. Hmm, he could get used to this . . .
    When he pulled back and sent her a steamy stare that suggested they get busy, she blushed a pretty pink.
    With a laugh, he glanced down her body. “In fact, you look good enough to eat, beautiful. Did you dress up just for me?”
    The blush deepened. “Maybe a little.”
    â€œI like it. I’d like the shoes better if they were up around my ears, but . . .”
    She rolled her eyes. “Is that supposed to be another pick-up line you found on Google?”
    â€œNope. That’s all me. Impressed?” He winked and found that he really liked teasing her. He adored the way she looked down demurely while giving him a flirtatious smile with a hint of the devil.
    â€œDecker, you’re a wicked man.”
    â€œYou ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he promised, then pulled her in for another kiss.
    Sweet. Always so damn sweet. She didn’t taste like danger, betrayal, or another man, as the other women he’d taken to bed for the last decade did. She was warm and real and . . .
    Shit, he sounded like some poetry-writing pussy. But it was all true.
    With an arm around her waist, he didn’t have any trouble finding the big bow at the small of her waist and untying her apron. She barely had a chance to sputter a little protest before he yanked it over her head and tossed it to the ground, then silenced her with another kiss. A moment later, Rachel threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself close, rubbing against his nagging cock.
    Decker thrust his hands in her hair, no longer giving a shit about her pretty curls arranged away from her face and all around her shoulders. “You keep doing that and you’re definitely going to get fucked.”
    She gave a throaty laugh. “Promise?”
    Fitting his hands around her ribs, under her arms, he lifted her onto the white tile of the kitchen counter. She gasped when her bare ass made contact with the cold surface. Rachel squirmed and tried to get comfortable. He just smiled. “Yes. Right here. Right now. Spread your legs and brace your heels on the edge of the counter.”
    She blinked, looking so gratifyingly shocked, but she complied. “Just . . . like this?”
    â€œExactly like that,” he confirmed. “You make me ache for you every time.”
    A fresh blush bloomed over her whole body.
    â€œYou ever had sex outside the bedroom?”
    She