They didn’t make it upstairs.
The fridge door was still ajar behind them, cold air leaking out in lazy wisps, forgotten. Steve’s mouth was on hers again—hungrier this time, less careful. He lifted her like she weighed nothing, big hands sliding under her thighs, hoisting her onto the granite island in one smooth motion. The stone was shockingly cold against the backs of her legs; she gasped into his kiss, the sound swallowed by his tongue.
Her legs wrapped around his waist instantly—ankles locking at the small of his back, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. He groaned low in his throat when her heat pressed against the hard ridge in his jeans. His hands roamed under her cropped tank—calloused palms rough against her ribs, thumbs brushing the soft undersides of
