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Her tongue peeked out, swiping over the spot he’d just touched. He managed to hold back his groan, but he couldn’t hold back the tightening of his balls behind his zipper.Son of a bitch. Reason #497 he should never touch Cassie. His gaze flickered to her chest. Her nipples again pressed against her thin jacket. At least he wasn’t the only thing hard.
* * *
Cassie mixed the cookie dough, moving her arm in quick, punishing circles. Normally, she enjoyed baking, emptying her mind and completing the task by rote. But tonight, she needed something to occupy her thoughts and take them away from Ryan and Lana. Or Ryan and Natasha. Or Ryan and whoever-the- hell-else he decided to sleep with. Baking was not the answer.
“Those chocolate chips do something to piss you off?”
Her heart leaped, lodging in her throat. Eyeing her, Ryan crossed the kitchen, coming to stand next to her. He reached into the bowl to steal a pinch of raw cookie dough.
She smacked his hand away. “Hands off.”
He yanked his hand away, glaring at her. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “You just shouldn’t go around sticking your hand in people’s cookie dough.”
Raising a brow, he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d pushed his sleeves up and, as usual, the ink twisting and curving over the muscles in his left forearm enchanted her. “I don’t typically go around sticking my hand in people’s cookie dough.”
She snorted.Right. Ryan had stuck his metaphorical hand in so many people’s “cookie dough” over the years, she was surprised the appendage hadn’t fallen off. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, looking at the screen.
“Is that Lana, offering up her cookie?”
His gaze narrowed, causing a crease that shouldn’t have been sexy, to form between his brows. He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “No, as a matter of fact it wasn’t.”
“Your hot-tub buddy then?”
His cheeks actually reddened. “No,” he bit out.
“Makes sense.” She shrugged, spooning dough onto a cookie sheet. “I mean you’ve had their cookies, of course you don’t want them again.”
Ryan blanched, his body tensing before he went back to glaring at her. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers, his chest pressing against her arm.
“What makes you think having someone’s cookie has any effect on whether or not I still want it?” he whispered.
His breath danced across her neck, causing goosebumps to bloom on her skin.
“I’ve had yours, haven’t I?” He snatched a raw cookie off the sheet and, popping the dough into his mouth, stalked out of the room.
Staring at the tray of cookies, Cassie tried to calm her suddenly rioting nerves enough to make sense of what had just happened. She shouldn’t have been so snippy with Ryan. He hadn’t done anything wrong today. So he’d hung out with a model during his downtime in Colorado, and he might make plans with a gorgeous ex. He could do that. He wasfreeto do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t his fault she’d gotten pregnant and imagined a different life with him.
But what had he meant with that comment about having her cookie? About still wanting a cookie even after having it? Did that mean. . .No. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she lifted her shoulder and brushed a strand of hair away from her flushed face. Ryanhadwanted her. She’d never doubted his genuine desire on their one night together. But he’d had his fun, and he’d moved on. He hadn’t wanted her five years ago when he’d forgotten about her in Costa Rica , and he didn’t want her now.
She shoved the tray of cookies into the oven and set the timer, wishing she could not want him just as much as he didn’t want her.
* * *
Ryan paced Cassie’s living room. The tree stood in front of the window, the lights circling the branches of the most perfect green triangle he’d ever seen. But he didn’t feel festive. What the hell had gotten into Cassie? He talked to women all the time around her, and although they rarely ran into one he’d slept with, it had happened before. But Cassie had never reacted this strongly. Oh, she hadn’t admitted that anything bothered her, but what the hell was with her whole cookie dough analogy? Couldn’t she just tell him to stop sticking his dick in other women? He cringed at his own thought.No. Cassie wouldn’t tell him that, both because he couldn’t imagine the words coming out of her mouth, and because she didn’t think she had the right to do so. Every time he asked her if his dating bothered her, she claimed his love life was none of her business and had no effect on her own life. So why the hell get so bent out of shape over a woman he’d slept with years ago?
Ellie’s footsteps padded across the floor above his head. She’d gone up to get her step-stool from the bathroom, so she could reach higher on the Christmas tree. Ryan gazed up at the ceiling, as if he could see if she actually did as instructed. When he returned his attention to the room, Cassie stood by the tree with a plate of cookies in her hands. Both sights made his mouth water.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was in my own head when you came in. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Typical Cassie, apologizing for an imperfection. God, he hoped they did a better job accepting their daughter than her parents had done with her. She fidgeted from one foot to the other as he studied her.
Deciding to let her off the hook, he nodded to the plate. “Are those for me?”
She offered a small smile. “Yes. You can eat all the cookies you want.”
“As long as they’re your cookies and not someone else’s?”
