He grins like I’ve already fed him. “Peach,” he murmurs, stepping back with a wink, “I am getting some.”
“Oh yeah?” I shoot back, one brow arched. “How exactly are you ‘getting some’?”
Before I can blink, Landon steps forward, wraps his arms around my waist, and lifts me like I weigh nothing. I yelp, hands flying to his shoulders, the dough barely saved as I swipe it to the side a second before my ass hits the counter.
Right into the flour. A puff of white explodes into the air around us.
“Landon!” I cough, laughing despite myself. “You got floureverywhere.”
“I warned you,” he says, grinning. “ I told you I was getting some.”
“Of the biscuits.” I giggle. “I meant the biscuits.”
“Oh, well, that too.” He chuckles, looping his hands underneath my thighs and pulling me closer to him as he steps between my legs.
My core settles right against the hard line of his V, and a shiver rips through me—sharp and needy. Heat coils low in my belly, thick and aching. He stands there between my legs, solid and warm, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
He lowers his forehead to mine, breath brushing my lips, our mouths so close I can already feel the ghost of his kiss. My pulse stutters. My thighs tighten around his hips. I remember—too vividly—what a few hours ago felt like. How it feels tofeedhis beast. To give in. To burn.
My eyes are locked on the pink plush of his lips, drunk on the nearness, the weight of his body between mine. He’s not even kissing me yet, and I’m already unraveling.
He speaks, and I see the question form on his lips before I hear it.
“Why are you up so early, Peach?” he asks, voice low, heat curling in every syllable.
“Ever heard of midnight cravings?”
His hands slide up my thigh, fingertips brushing the hem of my sleep shorts. The touch is featherlight—but it shoots straight through me. I gasp, sharp and involuntary, like he’s branded me.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, tilting his head until his eyes catch mine—those darkened, ocean-blue eyes now heavy with desire…for me. “Just not the kind that come with tossing… turning… and sweat.”
“Were you watching me?”
His jaw tightens just slightly, but he doesn’t look away. “No, I heard you whimper,” he says softly. “I only come into your room when I hear you scream.”
“But…you don’t wake me up.”
“I don’t want to scare you,” he says, voice quiet but firm. “I don’t want to be another shadow in the dark. I stay close enough to make sure you’re safe… but not close enough to make it worse.”
“Why?” I scoff, moving back but he leans in.
His lips ghosts over mine as he speaks.
“Because I know I’m one of the only men you let touch you,” he says, thumb brushing my inner-thigh. “And I don’t want to lose that privilege.”
My breath catches, chest rising just enough for my lips to brush his.
He’s so close I can feel the heat of his skin, the steady press of his thumb against the sensitive skin of my thigh, the quiet storm behind every word he’s just said.
I force a laugh—quiet, tight—and lean back just enough to blink the spell away.
“I like my secrets the same way you like your beast,” I say, voice cool despite the flush crawling up my neck. “Caged. Controlled. Only let out when absolutely necessary.”
His brow lifts. The smirk returns—slower this time. Darker. “You don’t know anything about my beast.”
“I know how to feed it,” I murmur, letting the tip of my tongue graze his bottom lip.
His breath stutters—just slightly—but he recovers fast, voice like velvet wrapped around a growl. “Nah,” he coos, gripping my thighs like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “That was a snack,Peach.Don’t flatter yourself.”
