Last night had blown her mind. Seth hadn’t been kidding when he said he was there to make her fantasies come true. So. Many. Orgasms. She was still limp from them.

“When will I see you?” he asked, impatience lining his tone.

“When do you want to see me?”

“Right now works.”

“It’s barely past seven.” She laughed, delighted at his urgency. She felt the same way.

“I make some mean scrambled eggs, and Landon’s toaster does a decent job of popping out toast.”

“Coffee?”

“French-pressed,” he said smugly.

“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes. Bye.”

Tara jumped out of bed and dived into the shower stall. She had to leave in twenty minutes if she wanted to get to Seth in time. It was a good thing she was so low-maintenance. After a quick shower, she brushed out her damp hair and put on some tinted lip balm, and headed out the door.

She reached his place on autopilot, busy thinking about what she wanted to do with him, and parked in a cloud of dust. She ran up the steps to the front entrance, dismissing self-control and dignity. He opened the door before she even rang the doorbell. “How do you always do that? Do you look out the window waiting for me?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling happily.

It made her happy, too, so she threw herself into his arms with enough force to make him widen his stance for balance.

“Whoa.” Seth laughed, his warm breath against her neck.

“This is good,” she sighed.

“Yeah, it is.” His voice was muffled because he was busy placing soft kisses along her jawline.

Just as she melted against him, her stomach protested loudly. Food now. Sex later. The rest of her lust-infused body thought otherwise. How barbaric to think of food at a time like this. The glory of sex awaits us. When her stomach growled again, Tara buried her face in Seth’s chest and mumbled, “About that breakfast…”

“I did tempt you over here with the promise of breakfast.” He lifted his head after one last kiss behind her ear. “Sorry, I got sidetracked.”

“Lead the way,” she said, linking her arm through his. “I’m assuming you’ll be stripping down to your boxers to cook for me?”

“What? You know I’m shy.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “But if you join me, I might take my shirt off.”

“Are you sure you can take it?” She employed her medium eyebrow arch to express mild cynicism.

“Actually, no. I don’t want to feed you burnt eggs. But I could still take my shirt off.” He grasped the hem of his shirt with a cocky grin, giving her a tantalizing view of a strip of abs.

“Wait,” she said, reaching out to stay his hands. She swallowed, literally salivating after him. “Don’t. I can’t take it either.”

“You’ll be fine.” Her hands dropped to her side without resistance when he proceeded to pull his shirt above his head.

Once he tossed his shirt onto the back of a kitchen chair, she stepped up to him because she had to get her hands on him. She smoothed her palms around his broad chest, then moved on to explore his abs. Seth groaned. She wanted to drizzle maple syrup into the ridges of his six-pack and lick it all off.