“Not my fault.” My heart pounds in my chest, and I can’t stop staring at his lips. I want to climb into Tripp’s lap so badly the urge is all consuming. Would it be the worst thing if I gave in, just this once?
My phone chimes, and we break apart as though someone walked through the door unannounced.
“It’s Mandi.”
As if we needed a reminder that giving in to these primal urges would be a very bad idea.
“Give me your phone,” he insists, holding out his palm. “I want to talk to my sister.”
Chapter 4
Tripp
“What is that?”My question comes out harsher than I intend, but I’m still irritated about the call with my too-cheerful sister. Mandi offered no apologies for the Christmas explosion that took place today, and she still expects me to show up for Christmas morning at her house like she’s not on my shit list right now.
“Cookie dough,” Harley says, flashing me a smile as she kicks off her snow-covered boots once more.
“Why do you have a giant tub of cookie dough?”
She frowns at me. “Do you have something against sweets?”
“No.”
“Then maybe try saying thank you. I’m sharing my Christmas bonus with you, and I didn’t plan to share it with anybody,” she says, moving into my kitchen like it’s the most natural thing. “Not even Mandi.”
In some ways, itdoesfeel normal to watch her search my cupboards for baking sheets that I only have because I inherited Nana’s dishes this past summer. I’m not sure what the hell to make of that. Harley Greer’s never been to my cabin before today, and once she leaves, she’ll never be back again.
I don’t invite people out here, not even my sister’s family. Mandi only had a key in case of emergencies, and after today, I’m seriously considering revoking those privileges.
“Andi gave each of us a tub of her magical cookie dough for Christmas. Hope you like sugar cookies, because that’s what I picked.”
“You planning to extend your stay?” I ask, keeping close to the fridge so I don’t accidentally bump into her. Even the slightest brush of contact threatens to make me stupid. I damn near kissed her on the couch. Hell, if Mandi hadn’t called, I might’ve done a whole lot more than kiss her.
I’m still haunted by the quick peek of that red lace bra earlier. What I wouldn’t give to press my mouth to the fabric, right above her nipples.
“The dough’s already pre-made. It won’t take long to bake a sheet of them.” She looks up at me as she scoops spoonfuls of dough onto the baking sheet. “You didn’t think I was making all of them, did you?”
“Why do you even have this with you?”
“Because I worked a late shift last night and forgot to take it out of my Jeep when I got home.” She pulls a chunk of dough from the container and plops it in her mouth. I pretend not to watch her mouth move, but dammit if I don’t crave tasting that sweet dough on her tongue.
“Again, you’re welcome,” she says.
“I’ll save my gratitude for after I try them.”
She holds out a chunk of dough to me in offering, wiggling it in her pinched thumb and index finger. Despite my better judgment, I push off the fridge and walk up to her, taking the offering with my mouth.
Harley gasps quickly, and dammit if my cock doesn’t warm right to life as my lips quickly brush her fingers and pilfer the dough. I wonder how many other ways I could make her gasp.
“Good, huh?” she asks, spinning away, likely to hide the flush on her face. A flush I know damn wellIput there. It makes me feel smug and possessive in a way that I have no right feeling.
“Who’s going with you to the brewery tonight?”
“No one,” I say. “It’s a single’s mixer.”
“You don’t have any single friends.”
“Not really,” she says, pulling open the preheated oven and sliding the cookie sheet in. “You change your mind?”
