His amber eyes stare into my soul as he leans down and lowers his deep voice. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Cupcake.”
I glare at him, heart pounding in my chest.
My former good mood disintegrates. His smug face, anti-sugar rant, deep voice, and the stupid veins in his arms have allworked together to destroy it. I dip my finger in the icing again, raising it up to my lips.
I change my voice into a mocking tone. “Oh my gosh, I’m gonna eat this cupcake and get sooo addicted that I won’t be able to stop,” I taunt.
I make a moaning sound as I close my eyes and dip the finger full of white icing into my mouth. A dramatic, over-the-top groan vibrates up from my chest and throat. I sigh, licking my finger clean before I open my eyes, resisting the urge to smile up at him.
His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. His pink tongue darts out to lick his lips, and he releases a slow exhale.
He looks like he’s on the verge of devouring me alive.
chapter seven
Dayton
I’ve never viewed Summer as a sister. When she and her mom moved in with us, I was sixteen, and I made it clear to her from the beginning where she stood with me, which was as far away as possible. My dad might have welcomed them with open arms, but I thought our family was doing fine with just us two.
After she spent the first few months sulking around our house, she warmed up and started trying to become friends with me.
From day one, my attraction to her was undeniable.
So, I had to hate her. Hating her was much safer than the alternative.
I stare down at her under theHappy Birthday, Amelia!sign. It would be fucking fantastic if I could stop the growing erection in my swim trunks. This has to be one of the quickest ways to ruin a child’s birthday party.
Summer’s pretty little pink lips wrapping around her finger and sucking the white icing off of it is going to be playing in my head on repeat for the next year. The way my body responds to her is diabolical.
This is why I refuse to indulge in sugar. And her.
“I understand why you can’t give it up. That would require discipline.” I drop my hands in front of my crotch.
I’m not walking away yet because, apparently, I’m a glutton for this brand of torture. I have been since I was sixteen.
She laughs, my favorite sound in the entire world traveling through the pavilion. I want to bottle it up and save it for the rainy, cold days when I’m stuck in New York and I can’t even hear her voice because she refuses to answer my calls.
Why would she? You’re a dick to her.
“Dayton, you hate all fun, joy, and good things. I’m surprised you even came here today, knowing there would be smiling and laughter and these oh-so-dangerouscupcakes.”
I watch with rapt fascination as she dips her finger in the icing again. She lifts it up to her lips, and I nearly groan when her pink tongue darts out to clean it off.
Get the hell out of here. You could catch a public indecency charge with this thing.
My arms are tense as I try to cover the protruding excitement between my legs, knowing I have to get away from her or go sit in my car until it dissipates.
“Maybe I just came to suck all the joy out of the party. Ruining things is what I do best.” It’s easier to just play into her perception of me rather than try to alter it. It’s definitely safer this way.
“How self-aware of you.” She looks up at me, a half smile on her full lips. There’s a stray dab of white icing on her bottom lip.
I clench my fist, tightening my hold on the wrist of my hand covering up the problem in my pants. It’s a damn good thing my hands are occupied because I almost reach out to wipe it off and get a taste. Her jade-green eyes are staring up at me. She raises a brow curiously, no doubt wondering why I’m staring ather lips and standing with my arms in front of my body like this.
It’s rare that I get to stand this close to her and study her appearance. She usually puts distance between us, probably to resist her desire to launch things at my head. She never grew out of the caramel-colored freckles on her slightly upturned nose. Thick lashes frame the eyes that remind me of the clearest day at the beach. Her honey-brown hair falls in beachy waves down to her waist. As a teenager, I once grabbed it and wrapped it around my fist because I hadn’t learned how to mask and control my overwhelming attraction to her. She screamed and kicked me in the shin.
“Dayton! Will you grab the paddleboard from the top of my car?” Cheri calls from down by the beach.
I look up to see that the entire party has moved that direction, but I was too wrapped up in talking to Summer to notice. Most of the kids are playing in the water.
