Page 26 of Take the Bait
“Uhh…” Hanna bit her lip.
Didn’t he remember her story about starting a fire with the boiling water? Hanna had a microwave and an electric tea kettle. That was it.
Tucker’s half-smile turned to a full-on smirk. “Yeah, I figured.”
He put everything down and pulled out a silver pan, a cookie tray, a mixing bowl, and various other utensils Hanna didn’t know the name of. As he tugged everything out of his backpack, his tattooed forearms flexed.
Did he understand what his slutty forearms were doing to her?
She wanted to lick them.
And then lick other parts of him.
Thoroughly.
“You came prepared,” she said, unable to help how impressed she sounded.
“Don’t worry, these are mine,” he said, his smirk growing. “I won’t leave them here with you. Wouldn’t want to create a fire hazard.”
“That’s not the fire hazard I’m worried about,” she said breathily, her eyes glued to his arms. Cheeks flushing, she covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes in mortification. “Sorry. Between being homeschooled and being ateacher who works with kindergartners, sometimes I can’t quite figure out how to censor my thoughts before they come out of my mouth. Unless I’m replacing ‘fucking shit’ with ‘fiddly sticks’ after stubbing my toe.”
“It’s cute,” Tucker chuckled, organizing the ingredients of their soon-to-be-meal.
“…cute?” Hanna deadpanned, then under her breath, added, “That’s a first.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know.”
“No, I don’t,” he responded, rolling his sleeves up further to wash his hands. “That’s why I asked.”
“Are you doing the slutty forearm thing on purpose?”
He stopped washing his hands for a moment, then looked at her with furrowed brows. “Slutty…forearm thing?”
Hanna groaned. “The slutty forearm thing!”
Tucker finished washing his hands, then dried them off before throwing the washcloth over his shoulder. “You’re going to have to explain this one to me, shortcake.”
“It’s a truth universally acknowledged that when a man rolls up his sleeves to display his muscular forearms, women in his presence have an instant, bodily reaction.Especiallyif those forearms have tattoos.”
“An instant bodily reaction, huh?” Tucker asked, pressing his hands against the kitchen island and leaning into it as he held Hanna’s gaze. “What kind of bodily reaction?”
“And now the lean? And a raspy, sex voice?” Hanna dropped her head into her hands. “Dear God, what are you trying to do to me?”
A quiet, throaty laugh escaped him. “I’m trying to feed you.” He paused, and she looked up. “And hopefully make out again.”
“You keep doing all that, we’ll be more than making out in no time,” Hanna said before she could stop herself. She grimaced, biting her lip. “See? No filter.”
“Like I said: cute.”
Hanna’s heart was pounding, and not just because the man in front of her was straight out of a romance novel—what with the forearms and the leaning. He lifted his hands from the counter, then slowly prowled around to where Hanna stood on the other side of the island, a predator stalking prey. Glued to where she was standing, all Hanna could do was stare with what she was sure were flaming hearts in her eyes as Tucker came to a stop right before her.
Barely inches separated them.
“Can I kiss you again?” He whispered.
“Uh-huh,” was all she could breathily muster.