Page 26 of Securing His Obsession

He groaned and closed the gap between them, and found her mouth. Her whole body relaxed into his. Her fingers gripped his shirt. He slid one arm further around her and tugged her close, so that she squashed against him.

Nothing had ever been as good as holding her in his arms. Her lips were as soft as they looked, and he caught a hint of peppermint.

He traced the seam of her lips, and she opened up for him, allowing for him to deepen the connection between them. The desire within him expanded until it consumed him. He wanted more from her. He wanted to trace his mouth all over her. Explore every inch so he could find what made her sigh.

Squirm.

Scream.

Somehow, while he’d been focused on her taste and touch, she’d moved her hands so that her fingers were now digging into the back of his shirt.

He trailed his own hands down to her ass, squeezing it. She moaned against his mouth, and the sound went straight to his cock, hardening it until it hurt.

The bedroom was just a few steps away. He could scoop her up in his arms and they would be there in a matter of seconds. It would be so easy to give into his baser instincts, but it was too soon.

There was so much that needed to be said. Not to mention their age difference. For some, it wasn’t a bother. But he had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Perhaps there were places she wanted to see before she settled down.

Settled down.

The thought pulled him up short, and pulled away from her. Their breathing was heavy, and mingled with the bubbling of the pasta water.

At one time in his life, he’d considered what it might be like finding the person who he was destined to spend the rest of his life with. But he’d seen many marriages breakdown during the time he’d been an SAS operative. How the secrets and time away drew people apart.

Yet, over the last couple of years, he’d seen every one of his friends find that special person, and instead of curtailing their lives, their partners enhanced it. Made it better.

And he wanted that.

But did Margot?

“I should finish getting dinner ready,” he said quietly, knowing he should say something about the hot kiss they’d shared, but worried that he’d say the wrong thing.

“Okay.”

He turned back to the cooktop and turned the heat off beneath the pasta. He was aware of the swish of fabric as Margot moved back to the island bench where they were going to eat.

Five minutes later, he was placing bowls of steaming spaghetti on the floral cloth placemats Margot had set out—placemats he hadn’t known he possessed. “Where did you find those?”

“In the sideboard over there.” She pointed to the wooden unit against the living room wall.

A wave of nostalgia hit him. That piece of furniture had been a constant in his life. It had belonged to his mother. She’d told him it was her glory box, and it contained all the good dishes that only came out on special occasions. Ones she’d collected over the years. As a kid, he’d been allowed to get some bowls out of it, but most of the time his mum had been the one to get whatever she needed.

Once he’d joined the Army, he’d moved out of home and had lived on base. It was far easier for him to do that than get his own place because of being sent on missions at a moment’s notice. He also hadn’t had the headache of leaving an apartment empty for weeks on end while he was away. He’d only moved back into the house he’d grown up in after their deaths.

It had been a shock when he’d walked in and found that they’d renovated it to give it a more modern look. The kitchen was nothing like what he’d grown up with, and he’d assumed his parents had sunk the money into it in the hopes of adding value to it for when the time came for them to sell. But they’d died, and now he was reaping the benefits of their hard work.

A flash of guilt assailed him that he hadn’t made more of an effort after he’d left the service to keep in touch with them.

Damon shoved the regrets aside, the past couldn’t be changed, and he doubted his parents would appreciate him feeling the way he was. They’d want to him enjoy the house they’d left for him, and to live his life to the fullest.

Light fingers gripping his wrist pulled him from the past. “Are you okay? You zoned out there. I called your name a couple of times, but you didn’t hear me.” Concern shone in Margot’s eyes.

“Sorry, I was just remembering my parents.” He pointed to the piece of furniture and explained what it had meant to his mum.

A smile played across her lips. “I had an old friend whose mum had one as well. She was filling it up for my friend for when she got married, so she would have everything she needed.”

Damon liked that idea. He didn’t think that was done these days now. Times were different when his mum had been a young woman. They lived in a disposable society now, where everything was replaced, and not many things were handed down through generations. “Did your mum have one?”

“I have no idea. If she did, she never told me, and she never kept it after she got married. She didn’t do for me what my friend’s mum had done for her.”