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“It wasn’t a stupid contest!” he retorted, stung. “And even if it was, look me in the face and tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
She stared at him, her cornflower eyes wide. And all he could think about was pulling her close and getting his hands on her round, perfect ass.
“Admit it,” he urged. “Wasn’t tonight the most fun you’ve had in a while?”
“Fun?” She looked at him like he was crazy. “That’syour idea of fun? I can think of at least ten things I’d rather do on a Friday night than working.”
“Okay, name one,” he challenged her. “A fun thing you enjoy doing. And, no, cooking doesn’t count.”
“Well…” She bit her plump lower lip, and suddenly all Brock could think about was kissing her again. Her mouth had been so soft and hot. “You first.”
A faint spatter of freckles ran across the bridge of her adorable little nose and over her cheeks under her light tan. Brock was exhausted, annoyed with the whole situation, but suddenly obsessed with tasting and touching her everywhere.
“Okay,” he said, moving in closer. He couldn’t help himself. She drew him in like a summer moth circling a porch light. “I enjoy doingthis.”
He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him, then bent to claim her mouth.
His world instantly shrank down to her skin, her hair, her scent. His cock stirred and swelled to hungry life.
She made an incoherent sound and melted against him. Her lips devoured his, and her arms wound around his shoulders. Her fingers felt like steel against the back of his neck, keeping him from escaping.
As if he was going to stop now! He’d been dreaming about this for days. Years.
She tasted like sun-warmed strawberries and melted chocolate, sweet and hot. He needed more from her. He needed it all.
He backed her against the counter, plundering her mouth, grinding his aching hard-on against her soft belly.
Brock ran his hands over her magnificent ass, squeezing as he plundered the depths of her mouth with his tongue. He grabbed one of her legs, brought her knee up to his hip, and molded himself between her thighs. She fit against him so damned perfectly, like they were made for each other.
This time, when he thrust against her, feeling her heat through his jeans and her loose pants, she moaned loudly and thrust back.
Then she grabbed his t-shirt, her fingers scraping across the cloth and over the small of his back, and yanked the hem out of his jeans. Her hands feverishly stroked his back, his waist, his torso, and she pushed his shirt up over his chest.
Brock was in fucking heaven. She wanted him, too! Maybe even as badly as he wanted her.
He tore his mouth free of hers long enough to ask, “Like what you see, Ms. Fancy Pants?”
“You aresucha jerk!” Summer’s mouth was swollen from kissing and unbearably sexy.
“But I’myourjerk, Summer Snowberry,” he said before he could stop himself. “And you can’t deny we’ve got some serious chemistry.”
He reached out and pushed her knife roll out of the danger zone. His hands closed on her rounded hips. He lifted her and set her on the counter.
She stiffened. “Hold on! I amnotscrewing you in a kitchen. On a surface where we’re prepping food tomorrow.” Her tone was weirdly prim for someone who’d just yanked his shirt half-off.
She hopped right back down, sliding down Brock’s front with teasing friction.
Dammit. Another fantasy destroyed.
“It’s not like the boss is going to find out and fire us,” he said hoarsely. He hung on to her hips. She wasn’t getting away. Not this time. “Besides, I know where the cleaning supplies are.”
She giggled but stayed put, both feet planted firmly on the kitchen’s tiled floor.
He pulled up the hem of her chef’s coat and stroked the smooth, warm skin beneath. His brain was fogged with her scent and the velvety slide of her skin beneath his palms. He slipped his hand under the elastic waistband of her checked pants, seeking the prize.
His fingertips encountered damp cotton panties, then slid down further, to cup her mound. She was hot and soft and deliciously plump against his hand. “I want you, Summer.”
To make his point, he stroked one finger over the taut fabric, tracing her slit.
