He could easily hold her petite frame with one hand and the press of his body, so he slid a hand up under the short sweatshirt she wore.

This damned thing drove him crazy. Was it coincidence she was wearing the same shirt she’d had on in the kitchen when he’d left her spent and panting on her kitchen table in July? Maybe. Maybe she had a dozen of them. Or maybe it was fate.

She’d come into the kitchen that morning when he’d been rifling through her cupboards, trying to pull together breakfast, in yoga pants and that sweatshirt falling off one shoulder and showing flashes of the smooth skin of her stomach and low back as she moved.

He’d picked her up and pulled that sweatshirt down, sucking on her nipples, making her writhe against him almost instantly, before laying her back on the kitchen table and fucking her thoroughly.

She’d come hard, twice, before his ride pulled up at the curb.

Best. Breakfast. He’d. Ever. Had.

Now he slid his hand up to cup her breast, finding the nipple hard behind the sports bra she wore. She moaned as he plucked at it. She had fantastic nipples. Gorgeous. Sensitive. Playing with them made her pussy clench in the most delicious way.

He pulled the front of the bra down, needing bare skin. The position didn’t give him a really good look, but he could feel that soft mound and the sweet, hard tip. He squeezed her nipple as he kissed her and felt her knees tighten around his waist and her press against him more insistently.

“Mitch,” she rasped as he dragged his mouth from hers to kiss his way along her jaw to her ear.

“I need to be inside you. I want to talk and catch up too, I swear, but I need to feel you.”

“God.” She gave a soft half laugh, half moan. “Yes.”

“Here? Now?” He’d take her wherever she’d let him have her. But he was aware they were just a few feet and a couple of thin walls away from her yoga studio.

“I want to say yes,” she said, letting her head fall back against the door as he kissed down to her neck and then licked the satiny, sweet-smelling skin.

“So say yes.”

“I have… people.”

He grinned against her collarbone as he rolled her nipple and squeezed her ass. She hadn’t been able to come up with the word “furnace” earlier either.

“Those people can find the door,” he told her.

He didn’t care if she stopped long enough to get rid of everyone. He got it. He wasn’t a complete Neanderthal. But he also didn’t really do a lot of customer service or making-nice in his job. He worked for his cousins and grandparents and was pretty behind the scenes. His cousins ran a swamp boat tour company, Boys of the Bayou, down on the bayou in Louisiana. He did general repairs and cleanup and odd jobs on the buildings and boats and other vehicles they needed for the business. His grandparents ran the local bar and he did the same for them. Basically he was the go-to guy for anything nonspecific that came up for either business and he just took care of it. No matter what it was. He loved it. He was behind the scenes, had a flexible schedule, was valuable to his family’s businesses, but also the businesses weren’t going to fold if he wasn’t there. It was nearly perfect.

“I need to…” Paige started, but then he shifted her, hoisting her higher and put his mouth on her nipple. “Oh. My. God.” The words came out on a soft breath and she arched closer to him.

He knew she was hot and wet now, and he could easily slide inside her sweet body and take them both to the peak within a matter of minutes. If he didn’t move his mouth down to her clit and make her come before he fucked her.

They’d only had one night together but they’d covered a lot of bases. He knew her body pretty well and, because she was so willing to tell him exactly what she liked, he had a good feel for how to wring every drop of pleasure out of her tight, wonderfully flexible body.

“If you stay in here with me, I’ll let you sit on my face,” he said against her nipple.

She loved oral sex, but she liked to be on top, controlling the angle and the pace and telling him what to do while she held her pussy above his mouth.

God that had been hot. He’d been very willing to follow her directions.

She gave another little groan-laugh. “Suddenly I don’t even remember why I thought I should leave this room. Ever.”

“That’s my girl.” He sucked hard on her nipple, ignoring how great it sounded to call her his girl. That was stupid.

Just then the doorknob rattled, and the door shook slightly as someone tried to open it.

“Paige?” a woman’s voice called.

Mitch’s head came up and he met Paige’s eyes. She put a finger to her mouth.

He glanced at the doorknob that rattled again. There was no lock on that knob. The only thing keeping the door shut was their body weight against it.

He pulled Paige’s bra back up over her breast, with a touch of regret at having to cover it up, then straightened her shirt.

“Paige Elizabeth! What is going on?”

Paige took a breath and called. “Just a second, Mom!”

Mom? Mom? Well, shit.

Paige wiggled against him and he let her slide to the floor. She licked her lips and smoothed her clothes as she pushed him back.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked through the door. “What is going on?”

“I’m just… rearranging the office. I’ve got the desk in front of the door!” Paige told her. She was frowning and sounded annoyed.

Yeah, he was annoyed too—and very uncomfortable behind his zipper. Mitch adjusted himself and then noticed the doorknob turning.

He quickly moved, leaning into the door, playing the part of a desk, preventing Paige’s mom from opening the door.

Paige rolled her eyes. Then she crossed to her desk and shoved it across the floor a few inches, making the scraping noise that her mom would surely hear.

“I’m coming!” she told her mother. She faced Mitch and pointed at him, mouthing. “Hide.”

He widened his eyes and shrugged, silently asking, Where?

She pointed behind him and he looked over his shoulder. There was a closet. A very small closet. He looked back at her, one eyebrow up. He was a big guy. All over. Something she’d not only enjoyed physically but that she’d commented on more than once when they’d been together. He’d inherited his six-four and wide frame, but he also did manual labor for a living. Working on the bayou just kind of naturally lent itself to brawn.

“Paige!” her mother snapped through the door again.

Paige came close and whispered, “Look, if you don’t want to have to propose to me at family dinner on Sunday and have a spring wedding and have constant discussions about which family name we should use for our first child’s middle name between now and then, you’ll get your cute ass in that closet and stay quiet.”

Proposals, Sunday family dinner, wedding planning and family names used as middle names… all of that was way too familiar. He knew exactly what she was talking about suddenly.

He was going to learn more about her family once they were alone—seemed they had something in common besides burn-the-bed-up sex—but yeah, for now, he could hide out.

He gave her a nod and turned for the closet and slipped inside. Barely. It was definitely a tight fit.