“Ronen, the big, bad baker.”
“I prefer the term pastry chef.”
I chuckled and squeezed his sides. He jolted.
No way.
“Are you ticklish?”
“No.”
I did it again. He jumped.
“Are you sure?” My fingers twitched.
“Don’t you dare?—”
I squeezed him again.
He whipped around and snatched my hands, pinning them behind my back and well away from his sides.
“Liar,” I said, smiling smugly.
His eyes narrowed, and he shifted both of my wrists into one hand while fishing for something behind me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m finding a towel. There’s something on your lips.”
I licked them. “No, there’s?—”
Ronen smeared a glob of caramel all over them.
I huffed in outrage, amusement bubbling up despite myself.
“What are you going to do now, Hellion?” he challenged.
I wrapped my legs around him, jerking him toward me as I lifted my face and smeared my sugar-coated lips across his stubbled cheek.
He laughed, and his hand slid into my hair, gripping me tight to hold me in place. He considered me with his golden gaze, sinful intent glittering in his eyes. His next smile had my stomach flipping.
“Ronen,” I warned.
Then he leaned forward and ran his tingling tongue across my lips.It was wet, tantalizing, tingly, and unexpectedly hot. The laughter or smile he might’ve expected drowned beneath a jolt of desire, leaving only my breathy exhale.
He pulled back, and there was no more gold, only black shadows bleeding into his eyes and wrapping around his tense neck.
“Hellion?”
It was just my nickname, and yet it held a question only I could answer.
My heart rate climbed. I wanted to know what his lips felt like against mine, but I didn’t want it to mean I was his. I wasn’t ready for that. But couldn’t I give in a little?
He didn’t move. He waited for me.
“No kissing,” I answered.
He hesitated, considering my silent offer. Then he leaned forward, his lips hovering near my ear. “No kissing.” His voice was a sensual whisper, and I swallowed.
