Page 146 of The Christmas Wife

"Guess who owns the apartment block?"

Her forehead crinkles, then she opens her mouth and shuts it again.

"Well," I smirk, "made the connection yet?"

"You," she swallows, "you own it?"

"Finally." I raise my gaze skywards, "Took you long enough to get that, huh? What's wrong, you eat too much dessert?All that cream gone to your head?"The fuck?The connection between my mouth and my brain has well and truly snapped, that I am hurling insults at her...Shut the fuck up, you wanker.But fuck, I have to distract her, and what else is a man supposed to do when he's caught with his cock in his hand... Technically, in a warm, soft, juicy, moist confectionary, but you get the picture, huh?

Color sears her cheeks.

"Is that how you got in?"

"I got in because you left the door open." I growl, and my chest tightens, "Do you know how dangerous that is?”

"Did you...did you find out I live here and decide to buy the place?" She frowns.

"Don’t flatter yourself," I reply. "It's merely a coincidence, I assure you."

She flattens her lips, "Is it also a coincidence that you're standing like that?" She takes a sideways step; I mirror her movements, in the opposite direction.

"Like what?" I twist my body. Thank fuck for all those gym sessions, not to mention working out with Saint at his horse ranch. My shoulders are wide enough to cover what the rest of my body is up to—I hope?

"Like," she chews the inside of her lip, "like you're holding your...uh.. your..."

"Dick?" I supply. Fuck, yeah. Clearly, she's not going to let go of it, and damned if I am going to be apologetic about being found out. I turn around, allow her to have the full-frontal view. She lowers her gaze to where I hold the plate with the pie in front of my groin...with my dick stuck inside.

She gulps, the sound audible in the silence. Awesome. This is when she tells me to fuck off... Or better still, turns and runs screaming, huh? Instead, she licks her lips. "Why did you stop?" she asks.

"Huh?" I blink, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She squeezes her fingers around the bottle of wine, "Why don't you finish what you started?"

"I will, on one condition."

She tilts her head, her gaze locked onto where my dick is sunken into the pie.

"Amelie," I snap.

"What?" She raises her gaze to mine, her pupils blown, her lips parted.

Jesus,I may have just met my match in food kink. Well, figures. She's a baker. I couldn't have picked better.

"Join me," I growl.

"How?" Her forehead crinkles, "How do you mean?"

I glance at the bottle of wine, then back at her.

"No." Her gaze widens.

"Yes."

"No way," she mutters. "I'm not putting that...inside...."

I thrust my hips forward and my cock sinks into the warm, moist, stickiness of the pie. A groan rumbles up my throat.

A whine bleeds from her.

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