He turned her to face him. "Love the outfit. I think my shirt looks better on you," he teased.
"I just grabbed the first thing I got my hands on."
His hands cupped her cheeks. "That wasn't a complaint, my sweet. And I don't really eat breakfast. Coffee will do and sometimes orange juice, straight black. But there's something I need to do first."
Her brows arched. "And that is?"
"This." Hoisting her onto the counter, he slipped between her thighs.
"Dean! The kitchen counter. That's..." She broke off with a moan when he kissed her chin and angled down to her throat.
"You were saying?" he whispered against the hollow of her throat.
"What?" she asked dazedly. She was already lost in the swirl of passion he could evoke at the slightest touch.
"Never mind." His mouth closed over hers in a deep drugging kiss that spiraled them into near madness. Wrapping her legs around his trim waist, she clung, her body primed and ready. They had spent all of last night and the early hours of this morning exploring each other's bodies. He had shown her things, how to please him, and turned his body into an experiment for her.
Lifting his mouth from hers, he tugged the shirt over her head, a sound humming deep in his throat at her nakedness.
"I couldn't find my underwear."
"Thank God for that!" he said fervently.
"This is not hygienic," she fretted. The counter was cold on her butt cheeks, and it felt weird to be in the kitchen where the housekeeper ruled supreme. "We're going to have to clean the counter thoroughly."
"Hmm." He wasn't the least bit concerned about any of it.
"Mrs. Bent..."
"Unless she has a hidden camera in one of the pots and pans, she will never know." His hands parted her thighs, eyes gleaming. "And frankly, I don't give a damn." He was kissing his way down to her breasts. When he latched onto a nipple, she lost her train of thought and the worry about being on the kitchen counter naked. Sensations crashed and burned inside her until she was caught up in a maelstrom of desire that had her arching towards his mouth.
When his hand pressed down on her sex, she cried out his name in shocked arousal. Lifting her up slightly, he kissed her quivering stomach before moving to that intimate part of her.
Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging in. His name trembled on her lips when his tongue replaced his fingers. The climax was staggering! Catherine felt as if she was being tossed and battered by waves that threatened to overwhelm her.
Before she was able to drift back down, he was lifting her up and plunging into her. Backing her against the wall, he wrapped his arms around her waist, his eyes holding hers as he drove into her over and over again. He came violently, one hand slapping the wall, body jerking as he completely lost control.
He barely found the strength to hold onto her as her legs slipped nervelessly down his back.
Striving to control his breathing, he staggered towards one of the bar stools and sat before his knees could give way. He simply held her, his face buried in her neck.
"I suppose that was even better than the breakfast I had in mind."
Her remark in that cultured and prim voice of hers had him shaking with laughter.
Lifting his head, he gazed at her, expression indescribable. "What did you have in mind?" he asked huskily.
"Scrambled eggs and bacon with toast."
He nodded. "This was much better. How about we go for a ride and have breakfast at this diner I know?"
"I thought you didn't eat breakfast."
"I'm willing to make an exception." He was still intimately joined to her and was reluctant to change that position.
"Sounds like a plan."
Wrapping his arms around her, he rose. "Let's go take a shower."