Sweet Sinclair (Masters of the Castle)
“The last time she’d burned a meal, she’d been twelve and distracted by cartoons, but the very next morning, standing in Parker’s apartment kitchen, Sinclair burned the toast.
It wasn’t her fault, really. How could she be expected to keep her mind on paltry things like temperature or time when she was backed up against the wall with one leg hooked over Parker’s shoulder, her hands clinging to both the counter and fridge, while every thought in her head scattered to the clouds and beyond with... each tender lash of his tongue?
She hadn’t got a lick of sleep all night. Again, not her fault. They’d worked in the kitchen until nearly three in the morning, and then they’d gone to bed. Exhausted, they hadn’t even played around. Cuddled up against his side, they’d talked until the horizon turned grey. Thank God for his alarm, otherwise she never would have been up and functioning early enough to get to the store on time.
Parker drove her and while they didn’t talk much at all, the entire way there, he held her hand upon his knee.MoreLess
It wasn’t her fault, really. How could she be expected to keep her mind on paltry things like temperature or time when she was backed up against the wall with one leg hooked over Parker’s shoulder, her hands clinging to both the counter and fridge, while every thought in her head scattered to the clouds and beyond with... each tender lash of his tongue?
She hadn’t got a lick of sleep all night. Again, not her fault. They’d worked in the kitchen until nearly three in the morning, and then they’d gone to bed. Exhausted, they hadn’t even played around. Cuddled up against his side, they’d talked until the horizon turned grey. Thank God for his alarm, otherwise she never would have been up and functioning early enough to get to the store on time.
Parker drove her and while they didn’t talk much at all, the entire way there, he held her hand upon his knee.MoreLess
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