Page 12 of Sweet Escape

Pinning Memphis with a look that says I was wrong, I finish the story.

“They were having sex. Right there at the bar. And by the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. Both of them were watching me as they finished.” I shake my head. “It was outrageous and wicked, and it totally freaked me out.”

It was also kind of hot, but I don’t say that part out loud. Because who thinks that?

I smile at Memphis’s shocked expression.

“So, Mr. Bartender ... Are you officially scandalized?”

He rubs his palm along the faint hint of stubble at his chin, his own mischievous smile creeping out. “Maybe.”

“If you want another dirty story,” I tease, “I might be able to find something else. In exchange for more ice cream, of course.”

He smirks. “Of course.”

Memphis steps forward and hands me the carton, but when I expect him to take a step back, he doesn’t. Instead, his hands brace the counter on either side of my hips, his face dipping toward mine as he steps between my legs.

It’s a flirtatious move. I know that.Heknows that.

The only thing neither of us could possibly know is whether the flirtatious move will become something else entirely.

And as much as I’ve promised myself to despise him, my body doesn’t seem to be on the same page.

Not looking away, I scoop a tiny bit of ice cream from the carton and lift it between us, placing the spoon gently against his mouth. His eyes search mine for a second, but he parts his lips, and I feed him a bite.

“Oh, look.” I say, my voice quiet as I wipe away a bit of cream at the edge of his mouth. “You’ve got a little something ...”

But Memphis’s patience has disintegrated, and before I can continue with whatever little game I was considering, his lips are on mine.

Surprise blisters its way through my body, but so does lust, and I clumsily set the ice cream down beside me, not even caring when I hear a loudthunkas it falls onto the counter.

Then my arms are wrapping around his neck as I open my mouth against his, the taste of mint chocolate chip exploding on my tongue as we begin to explore each other. Memphis’s arms wrap around my waist, tugging me tightly against his body, pressing hard and hot between my legs.

My stomach swoops, and I think back to earlier tonight, when I asked him if he pictured me on my knees or on my back.

I need this. Desperately. Something raw and sordid, right here in the kitchen. Bent over the counter or laid out on the table.

I moan when he shifts against me, and then my head falls back as he kisses and licks at my neck.

The light in the kitchen turns on, and we both freeze at the sound of a throat clearing on the other side of the room.

Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, I turn my head, embarrassment splashing like a bucket of cold water all over my body when I see who I can only assume is Murphy and Memphis’s father standing in the archway between the kitchen and the hallway that leads to the front of the house.

“Thought I’d get myself a little late-night snack,” he starts, “but I can see someone else had the same idea.”

The joke surprises me, considering everything Murphy has ever told me about her father, but I can hardly concentrate on that when I’m too busy wishing I could fall through the floor and disappear forever.

Memphis clears his throat and releases me, though he doesn’t move away, and I can only assume it’s because he’s hard as a rock.

“Dad, I . . .”

“Don’t.” Mr. Hawthorne holds his hands up. “Just ... head back to your room, okay? Murphy’s friend is visiting, and I don’t want one of them to stumble upon”—he waves his hand in our direction—“this.”

Mortification begins to creep through my body at his assumption that I’mnotMurphy’s friend—because Murphy’s friend couldneverbe the horrible human hooking up with Memphis in the kitchen, obviously—and I’m thankful when he finally leaves the kitchen.

But he doesn’t flip the light back off, and in the harsh brightness of the fluorescent lights, I’m struggling to make sense of what happened.

Memphis finally backs off, and my eyes dip for a second, finding the hard length of him tenting his shorts and confirming my earlier suspicions.

---