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“Hot!” He blew out a steaming breath, a bite of cookie hovering on his tongue, and then needlessly repeated, “Hot.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He took another bite, his eyes closing as he chewed. He moaned almost sensually. She tried not to notice as she slid the spatula beneath each cookie and transferred them to the cooling rack—also brought from her apartment.
She hadn’t baked him cookies for years and yet nothing about the scenario had changed.
She’d pull them out of the oven and he’d run in, eating one while simultaneously complaining they were “hot.” Then he’d blow on the remaining half of the cookie in his hand before dropping it into his mouth with a moan of pleasure.
“Amazing.” Over her shoulder, he reached for another. “So good.”
The words were muttered into her ear and answering shivers tracked down her spine. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed.
She turned to warn him that the cookies were still as hot as before, and came nearly nose to nose with him.
It was like they were magnetized.
Cookie in hand, he didn’t move when her breast brushed his shirt. She didn’t back away and neither did he.
Someone should...
“Want a bite?” His nostrils flared as he took a slow perusal of her face.
“No thanks,” she said quickly. “They’re too...hot.” That last word came out on a strangled whisper.
He backed up a step, broke the cookie in two and carefully blew on the halves. She watched his mouth, mesmerized by the sudden hold he had over her. The powerful, almost animal reaction she had to him. She wondered if it’d always been inevitable, but ignored. And if it had always been there, how had she ignored something so explosive? It was the difference between a warm burner on a stove versus a roaring bonfire throwing sparks into the air.
In this case, Flynn was the fire, and she was the wood, unable to keep from catching aflame whenever he touched her.
He offered half a cookie and she took it, brushing her fingers against his. They ate their halves, he in one big bite and she in three little ones. She jerked her gaze to the stove and back to him again.
“We should talk,” he said.
“I agree.”
“You first.”
“Chicken.”
“I’m not scared. I’m smart. Go.”
She would’ve laughed if she didn’t want him so damn much.
“When you kissed me on Valentine’s Day, you opened Pandora’s box. When I’m around you, it’s all I think about.”
Well, not all. She’d thought about a hell of a lot more than kissing him, but she wasn’t going to reveal that.
“Agreed,” he said. “And you have a suggestion?”
“I do.”
“You’re not going back to your apartment. That’s final. Not until you have running water that’s not the color of rust-stained pipes.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest that.”
His head jerked as he studied her curiously.
She licked her lips, willing herself to say what she was thinking. There was a very big chance Flynn would refuse her, which would be bad for both her ego and their friendship.
