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Gene reveled in the feel of Amanda’s curves against his hardening body. He thought he would die of a sugar high, tasting every bit of her delicious creations when what he really wanted was to taste her. He buried a hand into her hair and unraveled her bun. Silky strands cascaded down her back. He grabbed a fistful of it at her nape as he devoured her plump lips.
Vanilla and Amanda, perfect combination.
Her fragrance enveloped him, making him smile against her open lips. He delved further and felt the velvety texture of her tongue with his. Now she tasted just like the scrumptious vanilla pudding he’d just consumed off her fingers. His smile turned wicked. He couldn’t help himself when she’d innocently presented those fingers full of the sweet concoction.
Her soft hands eagerly wrapped around his neck. Gene hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted Amanda to touch him. When did this need for her sprout in the past forty-eight hours? From the first moment she’d opened her eyes after that crash, his instinct had been to keep her safe. But when she’d allowed him to comfort her, he hadn’t been able to step back to the other side of the ethical line. Now, that line no longer existed, not even a blurred shadow.
Gene gentled their kiss and dragged his mouth over her jaw to the spot under her ear and felt her quickened pulse beating against his lips. He growled at the intoxicating scent of her—butter, flour, and sugar—unable to control the urge to lap his tongue against her delicate skin for another taste.
A shudder went through her, along with a soft sigh.
“You’re not such a vanilla after all, are you?”
“Is that how I came across?”
Gene nipped at the base of her neck.
A deep moan rumbled in her throat when he traced his tongue along her collarbone. He almost reached the top of her inviting cleavage when Amanda grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back so he’d meet her eyes. The green had disappeared as her pupils dilated with her arousal.
“I’m not the type of woman who falls into bed with a man on the first date,” Amanda told him in between heavy breaths.
“If I recall correctly, we already fell into bed together on our first night.”
Gene ran his hands down her spine to the swell of her ass, as he resumed dropping kisses on the top globe of her breasts peeking from the neckline of her dress.
Amanda laughed. “Not in the way I’m thinking.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Gene pivoted so her delectable behind rested against the edge of the prep table. He straightened to study her face, waiting for her decision on how far she wanted to take this.
“What are you thinking?” she returned the question.
“With you, my logic goes out the window,” Gene told her honestly. He toyed with the apron strings knotted in front of her waist. “I don’t want to think right now.”
He pulled the loose end and let them come undone.
Amanda watched the heavy fabric fall between them, then her gaze lifted to his.
“Me neither.”
In the next second, they crashed into each other, seeking the other’s heat, fitting their bodies together.
Never underestimate the power of manifestation.
Amanda shouldn’t want to giggle while Gene’s face was deep between her breasts, but he was exactly where she wanted him to be. Be gone the invisible boundary between them, the cautious touches of a doctor, and the restrained desire in his eyes.
The gentle Dr. Rowland had her simmering for the past forty-eight hours. This Gene Rowland who had let loose against his hold on his passion might scorch her with his heat. He reminded her of a wood-fired oven with its intense temperature that would turn raw pizza dough into perfection in mere minutes.
So am I the dough?
A chuckle escaped from her mouth. Amanda quickly clamped her lips. How the hell could she be comparing them to food right now?
Gene glanced up at her with a half-smile. “Wanna share what’s funny?”
“No.” Amanda shook her head.
“I must not be doing this right if you can still laugh.” Gene moved his lips back up to her collarbone and neck.
