I dropped the pastry bag, clasped his face in my hands, and deepened the connection to something more urgent. It wasn’t sexy. It was primal carnal energy—scorching hot. Dexter parted his lips in invitation, and I didn’t hesitate. I drove my tongue inside, gliding and twisting till he moaned and molded our chests, clutching at my leather jacket.
Christ, I wanted to grab his ass, pin him to the brick building, and run my hands up and down his gorgeous body. I wanted to hump and grind till he begged me to?—
A door slammed nearby, ripping us back to reality.
We jumped apart.
“What was that?”
Dexter furrowed his brow. “Uh…sometimes Patty takes early appointments at the hair salon, but it’s misty out here and I don’t think she saw anything.”
Seconds ticked like a time bomb as we stared at each other, uncertain what to do next.
I looked away first, stooping to pick up the pastry bag I’d dropped. “You squashed my fritter.”
Dexter’s mouth twitched. “I’ll get you another one.”
“It’s okay. I like them flat, too.” I scrubbed my free hand over my beard and inclined my head. “Um…I’ll see you Friday.”
“Yep. I’ll text you.”
“Good-bye, Dexter.”
“Good-bye, Viggo.”
CHAPTER 13
DEXTER
We drove in silence while Viggo navigated the winding roads of the Four Forest area. We passed a logging truck on Belvedere and drove the outskirts of Elmwood where church steeples dotted the valley like a scene from a Currier and Ives painting.
I wore a ball cap and kept my head down. Getting caught riding shotgun in Viggo’s SUV could spark a firestorm of small-town curiosity we both hoped to avoid. Lunch, coffee, even flag football was one thing, but crossing the Four Forest area border in the same vehicle was a bridge too far.
I tapped a few messages on my cell, reminding my coaches where they needed to be for the Saturday games and tried to think of conversation starters with the stoic lumberjack. Once we reached the interstate, I dropped my phone in the cupholder and took a deep breath.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Hmm.”
“Not a cloud in the sky.”
Viggo hummed in agreement again and cast a sideways glance my way. “Are you nervous?”
“No. Why?”
“You can’t sit still. You’ve either had too much coffee, too much sugar, or you’re nervous. Don’t be nervous.”
I shifted to study Viggo’s profile—his prominent brow, long lashes, slightly crooked nose, and tidy beard. And don’t get me started on those muscular forearms, the veins in his rough hands, and the strong fingers gripping the steering wheel.
Was I nervous? As a matter of fact, yes, I was. I should have been consumed with thoughts of the little person growing in Freya’s belly, but no…all I could think about was lumberjack sex.
Let’s be honest, this was a powerful case of lust. I wanted to climb this man like a tree, lick him from head to toe, and God, I wanted to touch him…right now. I could lean over the console, unzip his jeans, and suck his cock. I wondered if he’d be into that. It seemed healthier than acting as if we hadn’t been naked and writhing in his bed a mere week ago.
One of us was going to have to say something, and it was probably me.
Here goes nothing…
“We should talk about pancakes and sex and just…get it out of the way,” I blurted.
