“That I like calluses?” he asked.

I smacked him on the shoulder, and his answering grin dug its roots into my heart. Kaden stood and offered me a hand up. Then he grabbed the quilt and walked me back through the rows and rows of plants until we reached my mother’s guesthouse, which I’d moved into a couple of years ago.

Kaden brushed the back of his knuckles over my cheek. As desperate as I was to read his aura, I resisted the urge. I wanted him to tell me his feelings directly, rather than use magic to see for myself.

After a few seconds, I asked, “Want to come in for a cup of tea?”

Kaden ducked his head. “That sounds nice.”

I pushed open the door.

He dropped the quilt on the couch.

We both glanced at it, then at each other. I bit my lip and crossed to the kitchen, where I set the kettle on to boil. Then I planted my hands on the counter, leaned forward, and Kaden came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

I let out a soft gasp and relaxed against his hold. A monarch butterfly found its way through an open window and landed on the countertop.

“This okay?” he asked.

“More than okay,” I answered.

He pulled my braided hair over one shoulder and kissed the back of my neck, lips so soft they sent tingles down my spine. My knees went weak, and I gripped the hand he held tight to my waist.

Kaden turned me to face him. His eyes drank me in.

He planted his hands on my hips, and heat seeped through the fabric of my overalls. It spread along my sides. Up and down my legs. He lifted me onto the countertop.

I reached a hand up and held it inches from his cheek. I touched his jawline, traced the shape of his face. When he shivered, I wrapped one leg around him, pulling him closer. His breath came in shallow gasps.

I cupped the other side of his face. I pressed my lips to his. Opened my mouth, just slightly. My back arched, and he took a step closer until he stood between my legs.

The guesthouse melted away. Time stretched between our mouths.

I ran my hands along the hem of his T-shirt. He trailed his hands up the sides of my overalls. He grazed the bare skin at my waist, just beneath my crop top. I dragged my teeth against his lower lip.

“Shit, Irene,” he murmured into my mouth.

I reached for his jeans, undid his belt. Then I stood and pulled his shirt up as I backed him toward the stairs that led to my lofted bedroom. We took a step, and he unbuckled my overalls. Another, I unbuttoned his pants. Another, the denim fell at our feet.

Until we were at my bed, having left a trail of clothes in our wake.

Chapter 31