“Get over here,” he growled against my lips.
I took the shortcut, climbing over the table and kneeling so that we were eye to eye where he stood.
“Better?”
He groaned against my lips; the vibration sending shivers down my spine. His free hand found my waist, pulling me off the table. He sat down, positioning me on his lap.
“What the fuck are we doing?” I gasped as his mouth moved to my neck, licking away the trail of raspberry jam. The sensation of his hot tongue against my skin made me shiver.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” His hands were already working on the buttons of my ruined blouse.
“Lillianna and the bakery staff?—”
“Will knock,” he murmured, pushing the fabric aside to reveal my lace-covered breasts, now decorated with streaks of lemon and chocolate. “God, sweetheart.”
He looked at me like I was the most decadent dessert at the table, and the heat in his gaze made me feel more exposed than my partial nudity.
“Fine, but this is just physical,” I insisted, even as I arched into his touch. “One last time. To get it out of our systems.”
“Whatever you say,” he said, clearly not believing me. His tongue traced the path of lemon curd between my breasts. “Just physical.”
“Nothing more,” I managed to say as he pushed the cup of my bra aside, revealing a nipple smeared with chocolate. The contrast of the cold air and his gaze made it tighten instantly. “Oh god.”
“Just a cleansing service,” he said with mock solemnity, before taking my nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling to remove every trace of chocolate. The heat of his mouth was scalding compared to the cool frosting. I dug my nails into his shoulders.
“Damn it, Gable,” I moaned, unable to stop myself from grinding against him. Shit, he was hard, and the friction against my core was exquisite torture.
He pulled back, his eyes almost black with desire. “Do that again, and I’ll bend you over this table right now.”
The command in his voice made me clench. “Threat or a promise?”
His hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat. “Landry,” he growled, his voice a warning. “Don’t test me.”
A knock at the door froze us both.
“Ms. Landry? Mr. Gable?” Lillianna’s voice called from the other side. “Is everything all right in there?”
Hudson and I stared at each other, both breathing hard, covered in cake and frosting, my blouse half-unbuttoned and his hands still on my breasts.
“Fine!” I called back, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched. “Just... finalizing our selections!”
“I’ll be back in five minutes. Take your time.”
Hudson’s forehead dropped to my shoulder, and I felt rather than heard his laugh. “Finalizing our selections?”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, can’t talk right now, I’m getting frosting licked off my tits by my dickhead rival’?”
He laughed again; the sound vibrating against my skin. “Fair enough.”
Reluctantly, we disentangled ourselves. I slid off, grimacing at the mess we’d made. Cake was everywhere—on the table, on our clothes, in our hair. There was even a streak of buttercream on the ceiling, though I had no idea how it had gotten there.
“How the fuck are we going to explain this?” I asked as I dabbed at a spot of chocolate on my collar and re-buttoned my blouse.
“Tablecloth slid off the table?”
“That could work. Maybe. Doubt it.”
“We’ll clean it up as much as possible.”
