“Fuck, Juniper,” he groans against my mouth. “You taste even better than your cinnamon rolls.”
I laugh, breathless. “That is theworstline…”
He kisses me harder, exploring every inch of my mouth with his tongue. His hands span my waist, thumbs stroking bare skin where my dress has ridden up. I arch helplessly into him, needy and unashamed.
The timer beeps.
We break apart, breathing like we’ve run a marathon, our foreheads pressed together.
“The dough,” I say on a gasp.
“Right.” Kieran doesn’t move. “We should check it.”
“We should.”
Neither of us moves for a minute. Then he eases me down, palms lingering on my thighs, and steps back slowly.
I try to tell him what to do, but I can’t concentrate. Every brush of our fingers lights a spark in my core. I can’t tear my gaze from his. By the time the rolls come out, the kitchen smells divine. I taste his final batch and blink.
“These are good, Kieran. Really good.”
“I had an excellent teacher.” His eyes drop to my mouth as I lick glaze from my finger. He leans in, catches my wrist, and, his eyes on mine, draws my finger to his lips. Heat slams through me at the first slide of his tongue.
“Perfect,” he rasps as he slides my finger into his mouth, gently tonguing it. His smile is filthy.
My knees nearly give out, and I shake my head before I lose the ability to form coherent thoughts. What the hell am I doing? Kieran’s my neighborandmy competition.
“I have to go. I really need to rest before the big day.”
He walks me to the door with a hand at the small of my back. My core clenches in response.
“Juniper,” he murmurs at the threshold, his deep voice filled with promise. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”
Lying in my bed, I replay his mouth on mine, the touch of his hands, and the feel of being lifted like I belonged in his space. I should be concentrating on the best strategy to win.
But the big, bad biker below me is all I can think about.
Chapter Four
KIERAN
The Snowflake Falls Fall Festival sprawls the length and breadth of the town square. White tents line the main thoroughfare, their peaks festooned with orange and gold bunting that snaps in the mountain breeze. The air smells like kettle corn, apple cider, and hickory wood smoke from the barbecue competition three tents over. Kids run between the booths with their faces painted like pumpkins and tigers, while a bluegrass band tunes up on the main stage.
The baking tent stands at the north side; big, white, and already hot from twenty ovens warming up inside.
I arrive on time, wearing jeans and the only clean shirt I own that doesn't feature skulls, motorcycles, or our Renegades logo. My hands are steady, but my stomach bounces like a popcorn kernel. Not from the competition, since I've accepted I'm going to embarrass myself.
It's from what's coming. Who's coming. One person in particular.
“Kieran!” Juniper's voice cuts through the noise of the crowd.
She's standing by the registration table in a yellow dress covered in tiny strawberries, her hair pinned up with wisps escaping to frame her gorgeous face. The morning sun catchesher ruby red hair, turning it to flame. My body responds immediately, cock pressing against my zip, remembering exactly how she felt against me and around me last night.
“Hey.” I manage to sound casual despite the heavy rush of heat crawling up my spine.
“You made it.” She smiles, but there's nervousness in it. “I wasn't sure if you’d still want to enter…”
“I said I'd be here.”
