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I groan. “Oh God, if the women of New York City knew what a cheeseball you really are, they wouldn’t be chasing after you.”
His hand slides behind my neck, his thumb tracing my jaw.
“It’s a good thing you’re the only one I care about.”
I want to laugh off his comment as lighthearted and just over-the-top flirtation, but when he pulls my face down for a kiss, the only thing I taste is sincerity. It makes my stomach flutter with nerves.
For a moment, I lose myself in his kiss, but then I remember where we are and pull back.
“Should we go?” I ask, trying to gain control of the situation.
“Yeah, we’ve got another stop.”
We manage to untangle ourselves and stand up. After we take off our skates and Hunter arranges for them to be returned to his condo, I let him take my hand and lead me away from Rockefeller Center.
To make you fall for me.
I think about Hunter’s words, and joking or not, he has no idea how close I am to that happening.
CHAPTER28
Hunter
I lock the oars into place and stretch out my legs before pulling Sophie into my lap.
“I forgot how peaceful it is out here.”
“It’s beautiful.” Sophie tilts her head up toward the sun and closes her eyes. She takes in a deep breath, then exhales, her body relaxing further into mine. “Thank you for bringing me,” she whispers.
“Thank you for wearing this dress.” I glide my hand up her thigh and under the hem of her dress.
“It’s a skort.” She flips up the skirt to reveal shorts underneath.
“Bummer,” I say, pressing a kiss to her neck. “I was hoping for easy access.”
“There’s no way you would finger me on a rowboat in the middle of Central Park.”
I smile down at her wickedly, telling her that’s exactly what I would do. She just shakes her head and laughs.
“I don’t think you know the power your pussy wields.”
“Ah, so is this the part where you serenade me?”
“That’s more a gondola in Venice thing, but I can try.” I start singing a late nineties’ Boys II Men ballad off key loudly. I only get a few words out when Sophie reaches her hand up and presses it to my mouth.
“You’re ruining the moment.”
I lick her palm and she squeaks.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the older, more mature one?” She looks at me pointedly.
“I like licking you.”
“Hmm.” Her lips twitch, but it’s impossible to miss the way her neck flushes.
She moves off my lap to take in the scenery, so I reach into the picnic basket to pull out a container of grapes.
“Are you going to feed me grapes?” she asks.
