I chuckle around my mouthful of ice cream. “You gonna share some of that, Petey?”
He levels me with a stare, forcing my legs to cross as pressure builds at their apex.
“After you just called methat? Not a chance,” he says, bringing another spoonful to his mouth.
I gasp in mock outrage, shoving my own spoon into my bowl and then scooping up some of his orange ice cream with my index finger. Before I can celebrate my victory, however, Peter’s hand is wrapped around my wrist, and in the blink of an eye, he’s got my finger in his mouth.
My finger is.
In.
His.
Mouth.
And he’s sucking on it with an indecent moan, his eyes closing in pleasure. Not for the first time this evening, I’m excessively turned on by this man.
He lets go of my finger with a loud pop. “I said I didn’t want to share my dessert, didn’t I? Gotta say it tastes better this way, though,” he says slowly, deliberately, as he opens his eyes. As he takes in my wide-eyed shock, he releases my wrist as if it’s on fire. “Shit. Sorry, I didn’t?—”
“My turn now?” I interrupt his obvious terror and extend the hand holding my ice cream toward him. His gaze moves to the basil-topped dessert, then back to me. I lift my brows in question, and he swallows hard, clearly battling with his decision as he dips his finger into my ice cream.
CHAPTER 4
I AM, WITHOUT A SHADOW OF A DOUBT, IN OVER MY HEAD WITH THIS WOMAN.
DARCY
I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I grabbed her hand and stuck her finger in my mouth. What Idoknow is Elizabeth’s shock was quickly replaced with a challenge I don’t want to back down from.
With a dollop of ice cream on the tip of my finger, I wait for her next move. Without hesitation, she takes hold of my wrist, like I did hers, and wraps her lips around the digit, her tongue swirling over it. Her eyes remain locked on mine as my jaw goes slack.
“Mmhmm,” she hums, letting my hand go and wiping at the corner of her lips, even though there’s nothing there. Then she sucks her own finger into her mouth, the one that had just been in mine. “Does taste better this way.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, running a hand down my face. I am, without a shadow of a doubt, in over my head with this woman. But I don’t mind one bit.
She continues eating her ice cream from the spoon, gaze full of mischief and pride for beating me at a game I didn’t evenrealize I’d been playing. “You’d better eat that before it all melts away and you lose it.” Her spoon waves in a little circle in the direction of the hand I’d forgotten had a full tub of ice cream in it. The whole thing is about to topple to the ground, and I straighten quickly, muttering another curse as some drips onto my lap. Now I’m glad I distracted myself with napkins earlier, when the sight of Elizabeth in my jacket made me want to reach for her and never let go.
Her melodic giggle fills the air, and I look up, unwilling to miss the moment. “I’d offer to lick ice cream off your lap, but I think we’ve scarred the public enough tonight with our little show. Later, though, I’d be more than happy to lick…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, just pointedly looks down at my crotch, where my dick most certainly twitches in response to her offering to lick literallyanything. “Eat your ice cream, Peter,” she reminds me again, and I do. With all the blood rushing to my groin and my mind imagining too many sordid things, I miss her next words, but I’m almost certain they were “good boy.”
Fucking hell.
No.Heaven. This is heaven.
We finish our desserts in content but loaded silence, the night darkening slowly around us as more streetlights come on and foot traffic dies down. I stand to toss our now-empty cups into the garbage. When I return, Elizabeth is standing, leaning on the tree next to our bench.Ourbench. That’s what it is now.
I slow my steps, taking her in. She has my jacket wrapped around her torso, the hem of her shorts barely visible beneath it. God, she looks good wearing something of mine. She looks like she belongs in my clothes, my world, mylife.
“Too bad I never got to taste your ice cream,” I say as I step into her space. Her eyes squint, and that mischievous look makes a return.
“Who says you still can’t?” she asks, slipping her fingers into the waistband of my pants and pulling me against her as her other hand wraps around the back of my neck, and our lips meet.
My surprise isn’t at the kiss itself, but how soft it is. Her pillowy lips explore mine, the hand now on my stomach tentatively moving across my abs and to my back as the other’s gentle tug on the hair at my nape sends a shiver coursing down my spine. I step forward until we’re completely flush. When she gasps at the feel of my erection meeting her stomach, I lick into her mouth, swallowing her moan.
She fists my shirt while my arms slip beneath her borrowed jacket, wrapping around her to bring her closer still. It’s not enough. All the layers between us need to be eradicated. I need her skin. Need her fruity, summery scent all over me.
Her fingers thread through my hair, and she pulls hard enough to make me groan, but neither of us lets up, kissing and kissing until I’m so dizzy from lust and lack of air that I have to pull back. “Damn it, what are you doing to me?” I ask into her skin, sucking in a lungful as I bury my face in her neck.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” Her breathless words bring me a truly stupid amount of satisfaction. She feels this, too.
