ZEKE by Kelly Gendron Read Free Book Online Page B

baking pies, reading, and enjoying fine arts?”
    “Yes, those are some of them.”
    “Oh-ho, there’s more?” I try to laugh but my brain’s still stuck on just how he would make a woman come. Could he make me come? Oh, yeah. I hold my smile, knowing that he could.
    “So much more.” He grins. “Now, those flip-flops will not do so go put on some sneakers.”
    I stare at him for a brief moment, astonished that he’s thinking of my comfort. He’s right, though. If we’re going to be walking around the market today, then my feet will certainly be killing me in these flip-flops.
    “Get moving,” he says in a firm strict tone, and surprisingly enough, I obey. I guess it must have something to do with that wanting to please the guy. God, how I want to please him, and I hate it! I stomp up the stairs, get my sneakers, put them on, and head back down the stairs. From his titanic sexual presence to his lip-smacking masculine scent, Zeke fills the living room. I just can’t see him with an apron on maneuvering around the kitchen. Though, an image of him with some flour on his nose pops into my head and I let out a laugh.
    “Thinking about making pies with me, aren’t ya?” His brows wiggle. Huh, would you look at that—he can pull off cute too. Yep. I’m a goner when it comes to Zeke Declan and his charms. Not that I’m going to let him know it.
    “Ya know.” I walk right up to him, stopping only inches from his muscular all-man body. “If we were to go out on a real date, I’d have some of my own expectations, as well.”
    “Oh, pray tell, Picasso.” His eyes sparkle with clandestine naughtiness.
    “Well,” I say, liking the way his eyes wait on me. “I’d expect you to place your palm on the small of my back as you walk me into the restaurant,” I slowly slide my hand around his hip to the waist of his jeans. “I’d expect you to smile at me from across the table,” I glance at his chest, “make me wonder what you’re thinking while I fed hungrily on the anticipation of it.” I add pressure with my fingers as I pull him almost against me. “And at the end of the night, when you walked me to my door,” I look up into his mesmeric eyes, “I wouldn’t expect you to push me against it and attack me like an impatient teenager.” I stop to take in his intrigued expression. “Our first kiss, it would be soft and gentle. You’d place your warm palm against my cheek and neck.” I lift my other hand and cradle his face. “You’d draw me in close.” I lower my eyes to his mouth. “And you’d watch my lips as they touched yours ...” I pause just before we kiss and look up into his dark hooded eyes.
    “Well, in that case, sweetheart,” he says with steady control, “I don’t think that I could meet your expectations.”
    “No?”
    “No.” He gazes at me, reaching deep inside with those piercing iridescent, steadfast eyes. “For my first kiss with you would never be soft and gentle. And I would push you against the door but not like a teenager in heat. I’d push you against the door so I could press my body against you. So you’d feel how hard you made my cock while I sat across from you in that damn restaurant, while I imagined the ways I’d make your beautiful body twist and move. I’d kiss those lips the way they wanted to be kissed—long, hard, and wet. You’d moan and cry against my mouth. You’d beg me to give you more, so much more.”
    I swallow the drool pooling in my mouth. “You’re right.” I run my thumb along his bottom lip, taking a deep breath and trying to overcome the commotion he’s caused within my hungry body. “I guess you couldn’t meet my expectations then.” He’d exceed them. Shit, he’d demolish them. “Luckily, though,” I drag his bottom lip downward with my thumb, “this isn’t a date.”
    “Lucky for you.” He licks the lip that I just released from my touch. “And after all,” he smiles, “I’d hate to disappoint you and your