He smelled like freshly baked snickerdoodles.
My eyes drifted over the edge of my book to the gingerbread man in question. He was too enthralled by whatever he was reading on his phone to notice. My thighs clenched together beneath the blanket, a side effect of Pink’s spicy scent and the spicier scene I had just finished reading. I had already gotten myself off once this morning, but I was suddenly regretting not having a second go with my vibrator.
This was going to be a long day.
“Finish your chapter?”
I jumped in my seat. “Yup,” I squeaked.
“And?” He wagged his eyebrows. “Was it hot?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I could have left it at that, but what fun would that be? No, I was a glutton for punishment, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, my inner brat craved a spanking from Jared Pink.
“There’s nothing like a good face fucking scene.”
I bit back a smile and brushed past him, leaving my blanket behind. The crisp air nipped at the exposed strip of skin between my leggings and ankle boots. “C’mon, I’m driving,” I called over my shoulder.
If I was going to be trapped in close quarters with him and his delicious cinnamon-scented skin, I was going to do it on my terms, in my rusty P.O.S. So long as he could squeeze his long legs into the passenger seat.
My boots crunched across the gravel driveway. A gust of wind whooshed through my hair, sending a wave of shivers shooting down my spine. We couldn’t have picked a better day to visit a pumpkin patch; autumn had officially arrived. Not to be confused with “false fall” and “second summer,” the two seasons that preceded autumn in Oregon.
I turned back toward the house, intent on grabbing a scarf, but came to a screeching halt when I saw Pink standing exactly where I’d left him, watching me walk away, eyes glued to my ass.
“Are you coming?” I asked, my voice tinged with irritation. His eyes lifted to meet mine, fixing me with a hungry stare. “What?”
“Youknowwhat.”
He crossed the gravel drive like an animal stalking his prey. Forget the scarf; I needed a red, hooded cloak. This was what happened when my brat mode overrode common sense.
“You can’t just talk about sucking dick and not expect it to affect me,Nessa.” It wasn’t the explicitness of his words that made my knees buckle, so much as the way he said my name.
“Who are you, the big bad wolf?”
A, dare I say, wolfish grin spread across his face. “All the better to eat you with, angel.”
I sucked in a breath, swallowing the saliva pooling in my mouth. He wasn’t the only one hungering for a mouthful. This harmless teasing had taken a dangerous turn; it was time to get off the ride.
“You wish.” I gently shoved at his chest, attempting to lighten the tone. “We really should get going—”
He captured my hand in his, holding it to his chest. “How do you want me to touch you?”
I blinked, taken aback by his question. “Wha— What?”
“When we go out on dates.” His rough fingers danced over my pulse. “When we’re at the festival or in front of your friends, how do you want me to touch you?”
“Er, I don’t think—”
“People aren’t going to believe that we’re together if you keep pulling away from me. You’ve already nixed kissing, so please, tell me . . .” He rolled my hand over in his, threading our finger together. His tender touch surprised me, a stark contrastto his gravelly tone, thick with desire. “Show me. I assume handholding is okay?”
My head bobbed up and down. He had held my hand on more than one occasion, so there was no reason to go back now. Plus, I liked Pink’s hands.
A lot.
I had a feeling those thick calluses could wreak havoc on my clit—in the best way possible.
“How about this?” He wrapped our interlocked hands around my waist before resting them at the base of my spine. The new position thrust my breasts forward, closing the gap between us.
