Page 18 of The Naughty Elf

Clapping softly for her earns me another grin. I cherish every smile she offers me. If only I could sweep in and plant a congratulatory kiss on her cheek. Or her shoulder. Or neck.

She swipes another taste of the frosting from what’s left on the parchment paper. Her entire digit disappears into her mouth, and I’m back where I started, picturing her mouth on me. How her lips would spread around me, and her tongue would cradle my tip.

I shake the thought free when she piles dishes into the sink and puts the cake in the fridge. Then, she returns to me, leaning against the counter. I like how close she gets to me and that she keeps putting herself within my reach.

“So, what’s your specialty? You must have one. I’ve seen what you eat for lunch, and it’s not takeout, and it's not a measly sandwich.” She pointedly looks at my half-eaten chicken and rice.

“What’s yours?”

Those plump, red lips purse at me. “Eggplant lasagna. Although my regular lasagna is pretty bomb, too. I make the noodles from scratch.”

Talented. In many, many ways. I shake myself out of the spiral.

“And yours is?” Ginger prods me again—with her words and her finger.

I smirk at her. Her entire face lights up with delight. It squeezes my chest painfully.

“Short ribs and stuffed poblanos.” My voice is raspy.

Her eyes get big and hungry. “So, when are you making me some?”

I burn for this saucy young woman. “Depends.”

Her finger drops back to my chest. “On what?”

I take another deep inhale of her scent. “I’ll make it for you if you’ll be my kitchen elf.”

The slow smile curls into her cheeks, and every naughty thought I’ve ever had of her flashes through my mind. “Hmm. I think you boys enjoy the idea of having an elf in the office just a little too much.”

Yet, she’s pushed forward, nearly pressing herself against me.

I raise a brow at her, not sure how to phrase the question I want to ask. What’s wrong with enjoying the idea of having help? Is she offended by the fact that we’ve made her the elf? Is it because of her size? Or her red hair?

Am I making her uncomfortable?

Ginger doesn’t retreat, drawing circles over my chest. “So, when will you be cooking for me?”

Another smirk curls at the corner of my mouth. “Soon.”

Her pleased smile makes me want to keep my promise.Soon.

A throat clears at the kitchen entrance, and I look up to see Ashley standing there with his arms crossed and an accusatory brow raised. “Need you on site. Kenny needs your help putting up the fireplace you designed.”

Probably a good thing. I’m on the verge of doing something stupid.

9

ASHLEY

Ginger is nearly pressed against Sawyer in the kitchen. There is evidence of baking in the sink and on the counter, and it’s easy to see why he got distracted, but holy cow, is he smiling at her?

I caught the smallest upturn of his mouth. He never smiles. The fucking bastard.

Jealousy rages through me. Not that I have any claim on Ginger, but I want to have one. I want her. Every single piece.

She turns to me, pursing her mouth playfully. She’s clearly not concerned about being caught flirting. It seems to be the only thing she does when someone is around. Tapping her chin, she regards me with that mischievous glint in her eye.

I swear to God, she could swallow me whole, and I’d enjoy every last second of it.

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