Page 34 of Lips Like Sugar

“What kind of things?”

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he said, “Sneak around. Disappear into dark corners or closets—”

“Or walk-in freezers?”

His lips twitched. “Or walk-in freezers.”

She took a step toward him, but only one. Maybe he looked nervous too. “Is that what we’re doing? Sneaking around?”

“People watched us come in here,” he said. “They’ll watch us come back out. They’ll see us. They’ll seeyou.”

Her head tilted. “Paul will see me, you mean.”

“I don’t want to assume that you want to make him jealous.”

Like a flame guttering, her gaze fell. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“But I,” he said, closing the distance between them, drawing her eyes back up to his, “for some reason, do.”

“You want to make Paul—”

“So jealous he can’t see straight.”

A tiny blue vein pulsed in the soft hollow above her collarbone. “Do you have a plan to make him jealous?”

God, he loved that question. He loved it even more that she’d asked it. Because he did have a plan. Was it risky? Was it dangerous to say what he was about to say in this tight space with her, standing so close now their breath clouds mingled? Maybe. Did he care? Nope. “I think you should take off my coat.”

Her eyes flared. “You do?”

Taking his hands from his pockets, he held his arms out at his sides. “Yes.”

“Okay,” she said softly. Sliding her fingers up his lapels, silence enveloping them aside from the repetitive thumping of the bass beating in time with his heart, she slid his coat off over his shoulders and draped it over the shelf behind her.

“Now you should untie my bow tie,” he told her next, his eye contact unwavering as her steady fingers tugged the ends of his tie until they came loose, hanging limply over his chest.

“What if I undid this?” she asked, toying with his top button, circling the smooth plastic with her fingertip. “Or would that be too much?”

His cock twitched at the low rasp of her voice. “I don’t think it’s too much.”

After slipping the button free, spreading his collar open, she continued to hold the reins, steering them deeper into the farce that, at the moment, didn’t feel like a farce at all. “What if I ran my fingers through your hair? Messed it up a little?”

Cole was pretty sure they were still in the walk-in, but he wasn’t cold anymore. “I love that idea.”

While her fingers slid into his hair, he moved even closer to her, the rise of her breasts meeting the plane of his chest. “What if I kissed you here?” he asked, lowering his lips to the junction of her neck and shoulder. “A small, soft kiss?”

Her fingers in his hair curled in response, guiding his mouth to her neck. “Seems”—she shivered when his lips met her skin—“realistic.”

She didn’t ask about rucking his shirt up in the back and slipping a hand underneath, her cold fingers dancing along his side. He didn’t ask whether it was okay to suck her earlobe into his mouth.

“Holy shit,” she gasped, her nails biting into his hip while he grazed his teeth along the slope of her neck.

Pulling away, he met her dazed, hungry stare. He couldn’t see her like that for another second if he still hoped to keep this encounter relatively PG. So he spun her around, watching her brace herself with her hands on the rack. “I think I’d ask to see it.”

“See what?” she squeaked.

Humming a laugh, he slid his lips along her shoulder, his fingers reaching for her zipper. “Your tattoo. I should probably know what it is. For full believability.” He kissed the spot behind her ear, wrapping an arm around her waist when she swayed to the side. “I should know how far down it goes.” He didn’t press his erection into her ass, butfuckhe wanted to. “Don’t you think?”

“It m-makes sense,” she stammered, one hand releasing the rack so she could hold her bodice in place.

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