“What colors do we have?” he asked.
“Oh, there’s loads in the pantry,” I replied, realizing this was the first time our conversation bordered on a neutral topic. I was intrigued to see why face painting with icing would thrill Kyra. Apart from pissing off her grandmother, she appeared genuinely excited about the prospect. And surprised I certainly was when Drake stood back from his daughter ten minutes later. “Oh, my God, Kyra.” I couldn’t keep the admiration out of my voice as I glanced at him. “Wow. You’re good.”
He grinned. “Thank you.”
I studied the intricate flower designs he’d painted over his daughter’s forehead, eyes, and nose using his fingers and a single thin-haired brush. She looked like one of those fairytale princesses. Only, the artwork was of a very high standard. I could see why Kyra would be excited. I was impressed.
“He loves painting, Sianna,” Tamara’s voice filled with respect as she glanced at her brother. “And I don’t mean face painting for kids.
“It’s gorgeous, and here I thought my pieces of art were the best.” I held up my fancy tress and snowflake biscuits with a grin. Drake glanced at me, laughing. His relaxed mannerism was infectious, and for the first time since my arrival, I felt at ease.
“It’s beautiful, Sia—nna.” I heard the correction before he bit into a biscuit with a moan. “And they taste so good.”
“I agree.” Tamara laughed, stuffing her mouth with her third biscuit. “You are the devil, Sianna. Carbs be damned.”
“My mom’s recipe. A combination of Indian and Italian ingredients and voila, sin incarnate. Anyway, looking at your figure, I’d say you’ll work it off in no time.”
“Yeah, if I can stop eating the damn thing,” she moaned. I chuckled and stood to walk away.
“Where are you going?” Kyra asked.
“I need to see what other stuff there is in the pantry to decorate the rest of the biscuits.”
“No. Sit. Dad’s going to paint your face. I’ll check the pantry.” She jumped up from the seat she occupied and walked away.
I took a seat. Until that moment, my nerves had disappeared, but the second Drake leaned forward and began painting, my breath stalled. I was conscious of his every move. The scent of his cologne, the touch of his fingers on my skin, and even breathing didn’t help.
“Relax,” he whispered. “You only need to worry if I decide to lick this icing off your face.” I gasped, and he chuckled, eliciting a ripple of goosebumps. “Close your eyes.” I did. He slid a finger under my chin and tilted slightly to give him a better angle to paint. When his lips brushed mine in the softest of kisses, my eyes flew open as panic took root. I turned my head to look for his sister. “She’s in the pantry with Kyra,” he soothed. “Kiss me.” Wide-eyed, I pressed my lips tightly together and shook my head. He leaned closer. “You can’t place sin in front of me and expect me not to want a taste.” His eyes darkened, telling me he was no longer talking about the biscuits. “Open your mouth, princess,” the soft command shot straight down to my pussy, and the ache I’d felt for so long was back in place.
I parted my lips in a slow exhale. With just the tip of his tongue, he rolled it over the shape of my lips before sliding inside my mouth—teasing me with gentle licks and tiny nips. If the man tantalized my senses before, then this was seduction at its finest. My body heated to feverish levels, my nipples hardened to points I was sure would cut glass, and my nerve endings sparked enough to cause a forest fire. I was ready to cave when Kyra’s squeal made Drake pull back. Although he resumed painting, his uneven breathing told me he was just as affected.
I licked my lips, holding onto the flavor of our kiss a moment longer. “You’re dangerous,” I whispered.
“You have no idea.” His soft laugh tickled my ears.
“Dad?” Rayden’s voice snapped somewhere behind Drake.
I froze.
