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Slowly, I licked away the sugary cinnamon that clung to my lips.
I should have straightened up and put her in the damn Jeep. Instead I widened my stance. “I’ll take another one.”
Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. “I knew you’d like it.”
“I don’t hate it.”
Her gaze dropped to my booted feet before she stepped closer. “I have one that’s dipped in chocolate, or dulce de leche.”
“Caramel always wins.”
“Yeah?” She tapped her lip as she peered into the box.
I waited patiently. My abs tightened as I forced myself not to drag her closer. Stupid. This was so stupid. We’d be living under the same roof for what could be weeks.
I had no right to turn up the heat on whatever was simmering between us. And yet the fresh rain and lemon scent of her was damn near killing me.
She held up the iced piece. I wrapped my fingers around her cool wrist. “You taste it first.”
“I’m full.”
“Is that right?”
She licked her lips. “Maybe a little taste.”
A little taste was not going to be enough. I forced my body to relax even if everything wanted to tighten. She looked at me as if I was the caramel snack, not the bit of buttery confection dripping between us.
I slid my finger into the belt loop of her jeans and tugged her closer. The churro fell into the box. I closed the top and set it on the hood of the truck behind me.
“I thought you wanted a taste?”
“I do.”
Her bright pink coat flapped open in the wind kicking up around us. “Is this a good idea?”
“Nope.” I lifted her hand and wrapped my lips around her thumb. Smoky caramel and butter tasted way better off her skin than any churro.
“Isn’t this going to get messy?”
“Why I took the box away.”
She snaked a hand into my coat. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“You can say no, Chaos. I can control myself.” I was reasonably sure, anyway.
She nibbled on the corner of her lip and never stopped staring at my mouth. Her nails bit into my belly and no amount of training could make me play the relaxed card. And still, I let her make the choice.
“You don’t even like me.”
I pulled her closer. “Is that what you think?”
She sucked in a quick breath at the very hard, very active participant behind my zipper. “That’s biological. Men can get hard from a stiff breeze.”
“Not all men.”
Finally, her gaze lifted to mine. She rocked against me and I had to grit my teeth against the need to drag her in and take over. I could change her mind and take away any doubts she had on the attraction end of this, but she was right about one thing. I didn’t have to like a woman to kiss her.
That wasn’t the case here—and it was the number one reason I should ease her back, and be smart about this.
