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“I’ll save you from salmonella anytime if I get rewarded with more kisses,” I murmur, going up on my tiptoes for another.My body seems to soak up his warmth as he holds me close.
Afterward, I watch Harris slide the pie into the oven.I’d swear I see a little pride glimmering in his eyes as he does.He pretty much created this one on his own.
“The trick for me is, I never do two pies in the oven at once.My oven heats too unevenly for that,” I teach him.
He glances over at the first pie as it cools on the rack on my counter.“I think you’re just being competitive.Yours turned out perfectly, and now mine will mysteriously burn like everything else I cook,” he teases.
I poke him in the middle of his very firm chest as he takes off his apron.“You are being way too suspicious.”Then I smile at the sight of streaks of flour on his cheeks.“You’re kind of cute when you’re messy like this.”
I lift my finger to his cheek to brush off the white powder.But he stops me, taking my hand in his and kissing it, first on the tips of my fingers, then the palm of my hand, then ever so tantalizingly, on the underside of my wrist.
I had no idea that hands could be considered erogenous zones until right now.
“See?You’re already trying to distract me so I’ll burn my pie,” he accuses, though his eyes tell me he doesn’t mind one bit.
Something stirs inside me, fueled by arousal and the spiked egg nog I’m drinking tonight.He slides his hands to my backside and pulls me close enough that I can feel just how much he wants me right now.
Then he tugs me ever so slightly until my breasts are snug against his torso, and he kisses me, long and thoroughly.
I can taste the chocolate we melted earlier, the few stray pecans he snatched before we added them to the mixture, and perhaps most delectably, I detect the rich mix of melted butter, brown sugar, and vanilla.
The kiss is as sweet as the holiday itself, yet as sinful as my most wicked fantasy.
I feel my body respond immediately, heating to my core, making me go up even higher on my tiptoes to feel more of him, to absorb the taste, the feel, the presence of this man who seems to fuel my soul.
Even after just a few days together, I feel myself imprinting upon him.
It should worry me.I try to remind myself what must happen when Nicholas returns.I can’t have Harris hanging around here like this, making pies in my kitchen.My son has missed having a man’s presence around my house.And this man—who’s leaving town in six months—would break my son’s heart just as much as he will mine.
But right now, I want to ignore reality and simply enjoy living in this warm, silky haze of seduction.
“Funny, but I thinkyou’retrying to distractme,” I finally whisper with our mouths barely an inch apart.
“Maybe I am.Should I stop?”
“No.”No sooner does the word pass my lips when I feel his mouth on me again.
He dips his tongue into me.But I want so much more than a kiss from him right now.I want the same attentions I’ve come to enjoy every night this week after I came home from work.
“You know, we have an entire forty minutes before that pie will need to come out of the oven.”My tone is dripping with suggestion.
“Forty minutes?”he asks, setting an alarm on his phone.“I’d never be done making love to you in just forty minutes.”
Making love.
Love.
Something about the use of that word by him makes my heart skip a beat.
He was talking about theactionof it, not the emotion behind it.I know that.It’s too early for anything else.It’s tooimpossiblefor anything else.
So I’ll enjoy this while I can.
“Care to challenge yourself?”I ask.“I mean, a determined guy like you might be able to accomplish plenty in forty minutes.”
His laugh is deep, as he lifts me up off the floor in a breath-catching swoosh.“Forty minutes, huh?If you insist.But I’m not burning my pie.Not even forthat.”
My jaw gapes as he carries me.“You’d choose pie over me?I clearly need to up my game.”
