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"Don't get so worked up about this. It's just a job. You lose it, I'll hire you here. No biggie.” He reached out and scooped up one tiny bit of frosting and dotted it on her nose. “It's out of your control. Loosen up."
Loosen up? What in the hell?
That was the final straw. Exasperated, Laine grabbed a solid handful of cake, spun on her stiletto and slung it into Jason's stunned face.
Her satisfaction lasted only an instant before she sucked in her breath with the horror of knowing she'd made a potentially monumental mistake. Jason reached up and swiped the buttercream and cake off his face, taking a menacing step toward her.
Her hands shot up, palms out in a pacifying gesture. Shit, he looked like he meant business. “Okay, I'm sorry. Jason, I'm sorry, don't—"
The wet glob of creamy frosting splattered across her face, and one chunk of cake rolled down her nose and into her cleavage. No way.
She wanted to scream, be angry, but her cheeks were betraying her, the corners of her mouth defying gravity and her need to look mad.
Jason eyed the cake and then reached out and, with two fingers, swept the glob from between her breasts and popped it into his mouth. “Coconut,” he said, chewing thoughtfully.
She stared, wide-eyed. Dumbfounded by the affront. “You—you—” At a loss for words, she spun back for the cake and grabbed two fistfuls, ready to retaliate.
His strong hands clamped onto her arms. “Whoa, that's enough."
Tired of circumstances beyond her control, Laine decided to take destiny by the reins. The cake was going all over him. She pulled at his grip, twisted and ... slipped from his grasp, launching face first into the second tier.
"Whoops,” came the muffled concession from behind her, sounding less than sincere.
Baked confection erupted from her mouth, sweet spongy goodness embedded down the front of her dress, frosting, greasy and slick, smeared across the swells of her breasts and face. Her hands fisted tightly, and a strangled moan of fury erupted from her depths.
It must have sounded like pain, because in a flash Jason was by her side, trying to take her hand and pull her away from the destroyed dessert.
He wished.
Laine wrapped one hand around his wrist and planted her feet for the best leverage, all under the pretense of accepting his assistance, and then yanked back using everything she could muster to throw Jason into the cake behind her. He had to outweigh her by nearly a hundred pounds—she never would have gotten away with it but for the slick stretch of frosting smearing the carpet underfoot.
He toppled forward and, suddenly, Laine was going down with him, and, dear God, she was afraid he'd crush her. He spun around and, landing on his back, pulled her down on top of him. The cake cart shot forward, the cake itself collapsing underneath their bodies.
Eyes wide, Laine tried not to laugh as she stared down into Jason's stern face. Bits of frosting and crumbs gave him a stuccoed complexion—so very not the perfectly groomed man she was accustomed to doing business with. Of course, that perfectly groomed man would never have his arm circled around her waist the way he did now, would never look at her with the smoldering stare that was suddenly setting her on fire.
Laine lay on top of him, her legs together in a stiff line along Jason's body, her arms folded up under her breasts as some sort of futile defense against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wore his clothes well, but lying on top of him gave her a new appreciation for what rippled beneath his Zenga suits.
She looked down at herself and felt her cheeks heat. Her breasts looked like giant frosted melons swelling up between them. Melons with berry garnish. Her nipples had popped completely free of the ruined gown and pointed up through a sheen of greasy frosting at Jason.
Slowly, she turned her gaze up to meet his. The look in his eyes left little question as to what he was thinking and nervous anticipation began to simmer within her. Suddenly, the arm around her waist tightened and Jason rolled them over so that Laine was underneath him, squishing into a pillow of dessert for two-hundred-fifty. He pushed himself up on one arm, his hips resting against her, his legs tangled with her own, the hard bulge of his cock at her abdomen.
Heat pooled in her belly, and every nerve danced with an electric charge across the surface of her skin.
Her lips parted, shallow breaths mingling between them. “You started it."
Her hushed words seemed to absorb all other sound around them.
Jason's eyes narrowed inches above her. “I was trying to cheer you up."
Biting her bottom lip, she gazed up at him. All she wanted was to run her frosting-slicked fingers through the dark slash of straight hair falling across his brow, pull his face down to her and lick the buttercream off the strong lines of his jaw. She wanted him, but their relationship was based on little more than a mutual love of sparring. She didn't know any other way to be with him. “You still started it."
The solid columns of muscle that pinned her at either side tightened in. His knee shifted, nudging between her thighs. Lowering his head, Jason had only one retort. “Fine ... Now, I'm finishing it."
His mouth met hers in a slow, sinking press of hard against soft. A measured rub of tender skin caressed back and forth with increasing pressure until the tip of his tongue touched the corner of her mouth and traced across the seam of her lips in a devastating assault. Desire swirled through her, overcoming her mind as she wrestled with the possibilities and repercussions. The kiss, all coercion and confidence, demanded she open to him. It was an exercise in restraint Laine couldn't endure. Her lips parted on a soft gasp, and Jason's tongue delved into her mouth, thrusting deep and then retreating in a rhythmic promise that sent a shuddering need racing through her core.
The hungry, wet velvet rub of his tongue against her own pushed her over the edge, swept away all thoughts of consequence and a primal, desperate need took control of her body. Their heads angled, deepening the kiss. Her hips pressed up against the ridge of his erect cock, her hands splayed wide across his chest, stroked over the muscles, the heel of her palm testing the unyielding resistance. He felt too good, so far beyond her wildest, most forbidden fantasy—
Suddenly she tensed, breaking away from the kiss with a desperate, “please,” as she turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes closed, her hands fisting against his shirt. What was she doin
