She expected him to say something teasing and coy. Par for the course with them.

He reached out and ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I love the way you look when I kiss you,” he said in a husky tone. “I—”

He stopped himself, suddenly looking uncharacteristically uncertain, then stepped forward and swept his hand in her hair. He pulled her closer, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.

Brooke wrapped her hands around his neck, her urgency matching his. No clue what he’d been about to say, but for once there didn’t need to be any verbal dance between them. What she wanted right then was something far more primal and simple. She slid her hands over his firm chest and moaned when he pressed the steely ridge of his erection between her legs.

Yes. That. “Cade . . .” she said, her voice thick with need.

He moved against her in a slow, teasing motion. “Is this what you want?”

Since the day you walked into my office. “Yes.”

He glided one hand down to her underwear and under the lace. He spread her open, then slid a finger inside. “Christ, you’re like silk,” he said in a guttural voice. “You’re going to feel amazing wrapped around me.”

She felt a throbbing heat between her legs and arched her hips. “If we ever get to that part.”

“Sassy as ever.” He yanked her panties off, and then undid the fly of his shorts with his gaze on her the entire time. “Last chance for Option A,” he warned.

She reached up and undid her bra, letting it fall to the floor in answer.

Cade’s jaw tensed, and then he was on her again, kissing her hotly as he reached inside his shorts. She felt his erection against her leg, hard and thick, and heard a rustling as he pulled out his wallet and removed a condom. There was the rip of a wrapper, both of them breathing heavily as their mouths battled, and then Brooke spread her legs—so, so ready—as he slid one hand underneath her bottom and angled her up.

He thrust into her with one hard stroke.

She cried out against his mouth with pleasure. Oh, God, he was big . . . everywhere.

He stayed still, giving her body a chance to get used to him, as his free hand tangled in her hair. He gently pulled back, forcing her to meet his gaze as he began to slide in and out of her.

“Have you thought about this?” he rasped. His eyes, dark with desire, held hers as he thrust.

“Yes.” No games right then. “I want it hard,” she breathed. It had been a long time since she’d felt this sexy and hot and good.

From the flash in his eyes, he seemed to be just fine with that idea.

“Put your legs around my waist,” he told her.

She did so, and he eased her down onto the table, the glass cool against her back. He took both of her hands in his and pinned them to the table over her head.

His blue eyes burned so hot into hers she was surprised the table didn’t melt beneath them.

He thrust hard into her and she moaned.

He thrust again. Then faster and deeper, making her breasts bounce as he took her against the table. She closed her eyes, then whimpered when he lowered his head and sucked the tip of one of her breasts into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the peaked nipple.

“That feels so good,” she moaned, moving her hips to meet each of his thrusts.

“Good. Because I plan to fuck you like this all night.” He reached down between her legs and teased her clit expertly.

He had her hands trapped against the table, and her lower body was pinned by his thick shaft as he took her hard. She opened her eyes and watched the bunch and flex of his arms, shoulders, and chest, and it felt so damn incredible to just surrender, for that moment, to him, to the strong, powerful body giving her so much pleasure.

“Cade,” she said urgently.

He thrust against her, deep, possessive strokes. “You are so fucking sweet,” he growled. He slid his hand underneath her bottom, tilting her hips up and holding her steady against his strokes.

That did it. Two more thrusts, and Brooke shattered. She cried out, her body trembling as wave after wave of her orgasm hit her. Cade released her wrists and flattened his palm against the glass, flexing his hips and pumping hard until he groaned deep in his chest. He rocked against her, his body shuddering against hers again and again, until he collapsed on top of her and buried his face in her hair.

Brooke felt his heart beating against her chest as they lay there, boneless. For two people who preferred to speak in quips and sarcasm, that had been unexpectedly . . . intense.

She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Then Cade spoke.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever used this table,” he said against her neck.

Brooke began to laugh. My God, he was still inside her and she was already giggling. “I take it you don’t do a lot of formal entertaining.”

He pulled back, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “Were you not entertained, Ms. Parker?”

It was something about the playful way he said it, the affectionate way he gazed at her right then. Suddenly, she felt the urge to wrap her arms around him and never let go.

Careful, girl.

Easy and fun—that’s all this was.

No problem.

Sixteen

CADE BLINKED WHEN he opened his eyes, not expecting his bedroom to be so bright with midmorning sun. Then again, it had been a really long night.

In every hot, hope-the-neighbors-didn’t-hear-but-damn-that-was-some-great-sex sense of the word.

He looked over at Brooke, sleeping on her side next to him with her dark blond hair spilling over her bare shoulders. The sight brought a smile to his face, thinking how sweet and angelic she looked right then.

She’d probably skin him alive if she knew he was thinking that.

He’d begun to suspect that there was a softer, vulnerable side of Brooke Parker. She tried hard to conceal it underneath her dry-humored, nothing-gets-to-me exterior, but he’d seen a few glimpses of it here and there.

He got it. Lots of people—possibly everyone he knew—would describe him the same way.

It’s all right here on the surface, he’d told his last ex-girlfriend. What you see is what you get.

But as he peered down at Brooke, wrapped cozily in his bed, part of him couldn’t help but think that he wanted more than just tiny glimpses of her softer, vulnerable side. He wondered what it would be like if she truly let him in. And if he was being honest with himself, that same small part would have to admit that he’d been feeling a little jealous ever since he’d met her friend Ford. Not because he thought there was anything going on between the two of them, but because Ford was clearly in the circle of trust while Cade—despite being the man who’d slept with her—was still standing on the outside, looking in.

The other part of him, however, thought he needed to stick his head under a faucet of icy water, or do whatever else it took to wake up out of this post-sex morning afterglow he was in.

Because to get in with a woman like Brooke, he would need to let her in, too. And that was something he . . . just didn’t do. Wasn’t sure he knew how to do, even if he wanted to.

But he did, at least, know one thing: he rocked the morning-after routine. He quietly got dressed, not wanting to disturb Brooke, and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, he grabbed the ingredients he needed to make a Denver omelette, the specialty of the house, and got some butter melting in a small skillet. He chopped up green peppers and onions and diced the ham, then tossed them into the pan. After that, he cleared off the small breakfast table at which he normally ate and set it for two, then got to work on the eggs.

A few minutes later, as the scents of the sautéed vegetables and ham filled his kitchen, he peeked up from the stove to see Brooke coming down the stairs. Her hair was tousled about her shoulders, her cheeks had a rosy, just-woke-up flush, and she conspicuously wore the same Cubs T-shirt and shorts she’d had on the day before.

“I can’t believe I slept so late,” she said, seeming rather abashed at the notion. She pointed to the stove. “What’s all this?”

“Breakfast.” He nodded at the table by the window. “It’ll just be a minute, if you want to have a seat.”

She seemed surprised by the offer. “Thank you.”

Cade folded the omelette he had cooking on the stove, then slid it onto a plate. He immediately added more butter to the pan, then walked over and set Brooke’s omelette in front of her. He pointed to the items on the table. “Salt and pepper, that’s orange juice in the pitcher, and how about some coffee?”

“Um . . . sure.”

Cade grabbed the pot out of the coffeemaker on his counter and poured her a cup. Then he added the rest of the egg mixture to the pan, expertly lifting the edges of the omelette and tilting the pan as it set. He added the ham and vegetable mixture, and then some cheese, folded the omelette in half, and—voilà—had breakfast for two.

He carried his plate over to the table and took a seat across from Brooke.

“This is quite impressive,” she said.

So she’d noticed. Good. “It’s no trouble,” he said with a wink. He took a bite of his omelette.

Brooke dug in herself, chewing thoughtfully. “Let me ask you something. Do you tailor the breakfast to the woman you’ve just spent the night with, or is it always a Denver omelette?”

Cade paused midchew.

Oh, shit.