She shakes her head. “No, I’ll just go sit by the fire if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be right over.”
When she hops off the stool, I watch her walk over to the living room, where she takes a seat on the blanket I laid out. She removes my jacket and rests it across her lap as she scoots even closer to the fire. Her face is lit up by the flames, and I catch her profile—the plush of her lips and the gentle slope of her nose. She’s beautiful. She really is.
Not that I had doubts, but her personality matches her beauty. The joking, the quick wit, the teasing . . . hell, she’s the whole package, something I’ve only discovered as she’s loosened up around me tonight.Perhaps I’ve only concentrated on the surface level with her too.Although, learning more about her tonight has only intensified my attraction to her.
Once I finish up with the hot chocolates, adding a touch of Baileys, but not too much, I take them over to the blanket, where I set them on the coffee table right in front of the fire. I undo my vest and toss it to the side, giving myself more freedom in my movements since I like to get my suits tailored to fit me like a glove.
Reaching out, I hand her a mug, which she reluctantly takes with a shake of her head. “Thank you . . . for these breasts, and for the hot chocolate.”
“You are welcome,” I say while picking up my mug. I rub the nipples of my mug a few times and glance up at her.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“This is all the action I’m getting tonight, so I might as well enjoy it.” I pinch the nipple and let out a ridiculous moan that makes her laugh so loud that I mentally pat myself on the back for pulling that joy from her.
“I absolutely hate you for doing that.”
“Nah, you love it.” I hand her the fork and pop open the bakery box to reveal the pie. Topped in whipped cream and chocolate flakes, the crust is a light-blond cookie crust, and just from the mere sight of it, my mouth waters. “Shit, I’m not sure you’re going to like what you see next.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I don’t answer. Instead, I dig my fork into the pie, scoop up a ridiculous forkful, and then shove it into my mouth.
Her eyes widen before she laughs. “Aw, you’re about to demolish this pie in front of me, aren’t you?”
“At least half of it,” I say with a full mouth.
“Makes mental note to leave French silk pies around the stadium for you to find. I’m thinking a hidden camera show. Some pies are real, some are not.”
“That’s just cruel,” I say after I swallow.
Smiling sweetly, she reaches up and swipes at the corner of my mouth. When she pulls away, she shows me a dab of whipped cream on her finger.
Without even thinking about it, I bring her finger to my mouth, where I gently lick off the whipped cream.
Our eyes connect.
The room falls silent.
The air grows stiff.
And before I can stop myself, I suck her finger into my mouth. I tug lightly on it with my lips, keeping my eyes connected to hers and making sure nothing is left on her finger. When I release her, she slowly lowers her hand and then averts her wide eyes while clearing her throat.
I recognize what she’s been trying to mask all night. She wants me. I’ve seen hints of it, but right now, under the orange glow of the fire, I know for damn sure she’s feeling the same way as I am.
So I take my fork, grab a smaller piece, and I lift it to her mouth.
She glances at it, and those gorgeous eyes turn on me, and I feel my stomach bottom out as she opens her mouth and sucks the pie right off the fork, staring at me the entire time.
And I go fucking hard.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say.
“Like what?” she asks as she leans slightly forward.
“Like the pie isn’t the only thing you want for dessert.” I reach up to the buttons of my shirt and undo the top four, letting some air reach my now heated skin.
