All night. Jesus, she put the wrong images in my head.

“What? Kiss and touch you?” I glanced over my shoulder to find her leaning against the counter, salad done, her eyes on me once more.

“Yes, that.”

So prim. She was wearing slim dark jeans and a sleeveless blouse buttoned up to her neck. Aside from her bare arms, not an inch of skin showed. Before meeting Parker, I had no idea how enticing that could be. It distracted me, made me want to peel off those jeans and see …

I cleared my throat. “Isn’t that why we’re doing this? So you could get used to my touch.”

A thoughtful look passed over her delicate features, and she made a short, precise nod before pushing off from the counter. Determination radiated from her small body as she stalked forward, and I had the insane notion to back away, run for it.

Ridiculous.

I was over a foot taller than she was. I was an ex-pro boxer. I had no fucking reason to feel nervous.

But when she placed her palm on my lower abs?

I nearly yelped.

She didn’t move away but lightly stroked me. Holy hell, what was she trying to do here? Kill me?

“I need to get used to touching you too.”

“Uh-huh.”

Touch me lower, woman. I’ll do anything you ask.

I cleared my throat again, but couldn’t think of a word to say. Aside from the sizzle of pancetta in the pan, the room had gone utterly quiet. Her warm hand pressed a little harder into my abs, the tips of her fingers dragging over my shirt. Sweet mother of mercy, the light exploration nearly buckled my knees.

Endless brown eyes stared up at me. “Is this okay?”

Was it hot in here? I sucked in a quick breath. “Yeah, sure, sweetheart. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Pink lips curled into a sly smile. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing. I don’t blush.” I gave her a proper warning glare. “I’m cooking. It’s hot over here.”

“Hmm …” She didn’t break my gaze. “You do feel a tad warm.”

Fucking hell.

Get it together, Morgan.

I turned back to the stove, and her hand slipped free. “Don’t want the pancetta to burn.” Or my dick to poke its way out of my jeans. “Hand me that plate?”

Giving her something to do got her away from me. She did as asked, and I started in on the rest of the pasta dish. She remained silent as I finished up.