Annie hesitated, waiting for him to stop her as her hand curled back to touch his cheek, expecting to find thick scars or warped flesh, but to her surprise, his skin was smooth and unmarred. She slithered her arm around his neck, slanting her mouth across his and teasing his lips with her tongue.

His fingers fumbled with her buttons and she helped him, exposing her skin to the cool kitchen air. Kitchens were always so damned cold when there was no cooking going on. She suspected it was the tile, but regardless, her nipples responded immediately to the temperature change. The angle of the kiss was awkward, but she was afraid to move and break their connection. His hand drifted over the soft material of her bra, and she was glad she had worn something with a definite texture, silky and light.

Annie believed she heard voices coming closer to the door and she pulled quickly away, listening intently. The conversation was muffled and unintelligible, but after a few moments, she clearly heard her sister say, “In the kitchen.” She looked at Eric, trying to keep her breath from being fast and audible. “Maybe we should go somewhere?” she whispered, ducking her head and moving to her hands and knees to crawl out from under the table. He grabbed her hips and she gasped, looking back at him as he held fast.

“No, we can stay here,” he insisted, sliding his hands up her bare thighs.

“Are you sure?”

“Live dangerously.” His hands roamed over ass as he lifted her skirt.

“What color are these panties?” He probed her crevice through the thin material and she wiggled and sighed, arching her back.

“Black,” she whispered as he pushed her panties aside.

“Mm, shaved.” He sounded delighted as his fingers investigated her moistness.