Page 39 of My Casanova

Smoke chuckled and hung the helmet on the handlebars. “Just saying the truth, angel.”

I watched as he swung his leg over the bike and stood to his full height. The streetlights cast shadows that highlighted the sharp angles of his face. He was so damn good-looking it should be illegal. The way his jeans hugged his hips, and the way his T-shirt clung to his chest—it was a sight I could appreciate all night.

He reached his hand out to me, and his fingers were warm as they curled around mine. “Ready for dessert?” he asked. His tone suggested he wasn’t just talking about the banana split torte waiting inside.

My stomach flipped. “Let’s go find out,” I said and led him toward the front door.

I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. I flipped on the living room light and didn’t pause. I led Smoke straight to the kitchen, where I opened the fridge and pulled out the banana split torte. I set it on the counter like a proud mom showing off her kid.

Smoke came over and leaned in to inspect it. “That looks damn good, angel.”

I smiled and reached for a knife from the drawer. “It tastes even better than it looks,” I promised.

I grabbed two plates from the cabinet and sliced one generous piece. Just as I went to cut another, Smoke’s hand gently covered mine and stopped me.

“You and I can share, angel,” he said as his eyes locked onto mine. They were full of something dark and delicious.

I swallowed hard and felt the heat of his gaze. “Share, huh?”

Smoke grinned and slid the plate closer. “Yeah. I like the idea of feeding you.”

A nervous laugh escaped me, but I nodded and grabbed a fork. I handed it to him. “Alright, let’s see what you think, Casanova.”

He took the fork, scooped up a bite, and held it out to me. “You first, angel.”

I parted my lips and let him slide the fork into my mouth. The rich, creamy dessert melted on my tongue, and I moaned softly. “Mmm, told you it was good.”

Smoke’s eyes darkened as he watched me. “Damn, angel. Watching you enjoy that might be better than eating it myself.”

I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Your turn,” I said, grabbed the fork, and scooped up another bite. I held it to his lips, and he smirked before taking it in.

His eyes fluttered shut as he savored it. “You weren’t lying. This is incredible.”

We continued taking turns. I wiped a smudge of cream from his lip, and his eyes watched me as I sucked my finger into my mouth.

Smoke set the fork down and leaned in till his face was just inches from mine. “You know, angel, I think I might like your kind of dessert better than anything I’ve ever had.”

I swallowed, and my heart raced. “I did say it was the best.”

“You weren’t wrong,” he murmured, and his lips brushed against mine.

My fork clattered to the floor as I melted into him. My hands gripped the counter behind me as his arms caged me in. The kiss was slow and teasing while his lips tasted of the sweetness we had just shared. I sighed into him, and his body pressed closer.

When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless, and my eyes locked onto his. “Wow.”

Smoke’s gaze darkened, and his lips curved into that signature smirk that always sent shivers down my spine. “Wow is right, angel,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to mylips. “Now, how about we take this dessert somewhere more comfortable?”

I nodded with my heart hammering against my ribs as he reached for the half-eaten plate of banana split torte. Without another word, he took my hand and led me through the house. His confident stride made my knees weak. The warmth of his fingers wrapped around mine, and I followed him willingly.

The moment we stepped into my bedroom, he set the plate down on the bedside table and turned to me. His hands found my waist and pulled me flush against him. My breath caught in my throat as his lips descended on mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, and my fingers tangled in his hair as I melted into him.

His hands roamed up my back and slipped beneath my shirt, and the roughness of his palms sent sparks across my skin. In one smooth motion, he pulled the fabric over my head and tossed it aside. I felt the cool air whisper against my bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him.

I reached for his shirt in return and slid it over his head to reveal the hard planes of muscle I had dreamed about. His boots thudded against the floor as he kicked them off, and his hands worked the button on my jeans and panties. I shimmied out of them and stood in front of him naked.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered. His voice was husky and sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

He nudged me gently onto the bed, and his strong frame hovered over me. He grabbed the plate of dessert with a wicked glint in his eyes. He scooped up a bit of the whipped cream with his finger, and he traced it across my collarbone. His touch was feather-light, and I gasped at the cold cream.

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