Homecoming on the Kitchen Counter

The front door swung open with the kind of dramatic flair only Dean could muster after thirty hours of travel, and his suitcase hit the hardwood floor like a declaration of war against loneliness.

"Honey!" he bellowed, his voice carrying through the sprawling penthouse like a trumpet blast. "I'm back, and I brought treasures from the land down under!"

Victoria appeared at the top of the marble staircase, her dark hair tumbling over bare shoulders in a silk camisole and shorts that made Dean's mouth go dry instantly. One month. Thirty entire days of video calls and cold hotel sheets and his own hand as a poor substitute for the woman currently bounding down the stairs toward him.

She launched herself into his arms, and Dean caught her easily, spinning her once before setting her down. Her lips found his, hungry and urgent, tasting like the chai tea she always drank in the afternoons.

"Missed you," she murmured against his mouth. "Missed you so much it was physically uncomfortable."

Dean grinned, kissing her forehead. "I missed you too, beautiful. The Sydney harbor has nothing on the view I'm looking at right now."

Victoria rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. Former Miss Florida or not, Dean still had the power to make her feel like the only woman on the planet.

"Did you bring me something shiny?" she asked, eyes darting toward the suitcase with childlike excitement.

"Something better than shiny." Dean knelt down and popped the luggage open, rummaging past business documents and pressed suits until his fingers found the small tissue-paper package. He stood and presented it with a bow. "For the most gorgeous woman in my life."

Victoria unwrapped it carefully, pulling away the paper to reveal a scandalously small apron. It was black with delicate white lace trim, the kind that covered approximately nothing and promised everything. A tiny kangaroo embroidered on the front pocket made her snort with laughter.

"You went to Australia and brought me back a lingerie apron?" She held it up, examining the strategic lack of fabric. "Dean, this wouldn't cover a toddler."

"That's the entire point." His eyes darkened with intention. "Put it on for me."

Victoria raised an eyebrow, but there was already heat building between her thighs. A month of deprivation had made her desperate, and the way Dean was looking at her, like he wanted to devour her whole, wasn't helping matters.

"Right now?" she asked, her voice breathy.

"Right now. Nothing else. Just the apron."

She disappeared upstairs and returned five minutes later, and Dean felt every drop of blood in his body rush south. The apron tied neatly at her waist, the thin straps barely covering her nipples, leaving the sides of her breasts completely exposed. The back was nonexistent, and when she turned around to show him, he groaned at the sight of her bare backside.

"Jesus, Victoria."

"You like?" She did a slow turn, the former beauty queen in her element, posing with practiced grace that made the display even more intoxicating.

Dean closed the distance between them in three strides, pulling her against his chest. His mouth found the curve of her neck, tasting the vanilla of her skin. "I more than like. I'm about to lose my mind."

He walked her backward through the penthouse, their lips tangled together, hands grasping and exploring like they were rediscovering territory they'd thought they'd never see again. Victoria's fingers worked at his buttons, stripping his shirt off and running her palms over the hard planes of his chest. He'd been working out more during the trip, she noticed. The definition in his shoulders was more pronounced, and she dug her nails in slightly just to hear him hiss.

They stumbled into the kitchen, and Dean lifted her onto the marble countertop like she weighed nothing. The cool stone against her heated skin made her gasp, and Dean swallowed the sound with another kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had her gripping his hair.

"I thought about this every night," he breathed, trailing kisses down her throat, across her collarbone. "Every single night in that hotel room, I thought about having you underneath me."

Victoria's head fell back as his mouth found her breast, tongue circling the sensitive peak through the thin lace of the apron strap. She arched into him, her hips tilting forward seeking friction. "Dean, please."

"Please what?" He switched to the other breast, giving it the same torturous attention. "Tell me what you want."

"You. I want you inside me. It's been too long."

Dean's hand slid up her thigh, fingers tracing the edge of where she needed him most. He found her slick and ready, and the groan that escaped him was primal. "You're so wet already."

"What do you expect?" Victoria's voice cracked as one finger slid inside her, then two. "A month without you. I've been dying."

He worked her slowly, thumb finding the swollen bud at her center while his fingers curved inside her, hitting that spot that made her vision blur. Victoria's hands gripped the counter edge, knuckles white, as pleasure built in waves. The kitchen filled with her sounds, breathy moans and whispered curses that echoed off the stainless steel appliances.

"Dean, I need you. Now. Please."

He shed his remaining clothes with efficiency, and Victoria reached for him, her hand wrapping around his length, stroking slowly. Dean's jaw clenched, his hips jerking forward into her grip.

"If you keep doing that, this will be over very quickly," he warned.

"Then stop wasting time."

Dean pulled her to the edge of the counter, positioned himself, and slid home in one long thrust. They both stilled, savoring the connection, the rightness of being together again after weeks apart. Victoria's legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place.

"Move," she demanded.

He obeyed, setting a rhythm that was neither fast nor slow, but deep and deliberate, each thrust hitting places that made Victoria's breath catch. The apron bunched between them, the lace scratching against sensitized skin in a way that heightened every sensation.

The countertop was the wrong height for comfort, but neither of them cared. Dean braced one hand on the marble and gripped her hip with the other, angling her so he could go deeper. Victoria's nails raked down his back, leaving trails of fire that only spurred him on.

"You feel incredible," Dean growled against her ear. "So tight. So perfect."

Victoria couldn't form words anymore. The tension inside her was coiling tighter with each thrust, building toward something that felt different than usual, more intense. The month of separation had wound her so tightly that she could feel herself approaching the edge much faster than normal.

"Dean, I'm close."

"I know. I can feel you clenching around me. Let go, baby."

He shifted angle slightly, and that was all it took. Victoria shattered, her entire body seizing as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She cried out his name, her inner muscles pulsing and pulling him deeper.

Dean followed her over moments later, his release hitting him with enough force to make his knees buckle. He buried himself fully inside her, groaning her name into the curve of her neck as he spilled himself.

They stayed there, tangled together on the kitchen counter, breathing hard, for several long moments. Dean's forehead rested against Victoria's shoulder, and her fingers traced lazy patterns on his back.

"I think," Victoria finally said, her voice still shaky, "that apron might be the best gift you've ever brought me from a trip."

Dean laughed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before lifting his head to meet her eyes. "Better than the Chanel bag from Paris?"

"The Chanel bag never made me see stars on my own kitchen counter." She grinned, reaching up to smooth his disheveled hair. "Though I have to ask, did you actually do any business in Australia, or did you just shop for ways to seduce me?"

Dean pulled back, adjusting the tiny apron strap that had migrated completely off her shoulder. "Both. Multitasking is an essential business skill."

Victoria snorted, reaching for the dishtowel to wipe the steam off the nearby window. "Well, Mr. Hotel Magnate, I have one question."

"What's that?"

She looked down at the apron, then back up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Do they sell these in bulk? Because if you're going to keep leaving me for a month at a time, I'm going to need a collection."

Dean kissed her, slow and promising. "Darling, I'll buy you one from every country on earth if that's the welcome home I get."

Victoria smiled against his lips. "Then I suppose you'll just have to keep traveling."

"Best business plan I've ever had," he murmured, and the kitchen witnessed the beginning of round two.