Page 19 of The Baker's Dozen

Tempting. “What if I hate cookies?”

He rumbles a sexy laugh. “You won’t hate these.” He turns and strides away from me and I push off the bed, following quickly. If for no other reason than the fact he’s still stark naked and I want to see more of that glorious body.

Plus, he’s right; I won’t hate his cookies. I can tell by the smell they’ll be life-altering.

A bit like the man who made them, I imagine. Not that I’ll get to experience him for long. After tonight, I’m headed back to the real world and he’s probably headed back to the Big Easy.

Ignoring the strange sense of sadness that thought ignites within me, I tug the top sheet loose from the bed and wrap it around myself as I stroll out of the bedroom.

The entire living area of the suite is lined with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the exterior of the resort, and since the glow of lights below can be viewed from where I stand, it’s clear we’re high up but notthathigh up.

He looks back at me over his shoulder and raises his brows. I’ve stopped walking.

“What floor is this?”

Dawson frowns. “Fifth?”

Pursing my lips, I ease toward the windows to peek out.

Dawson approaches me from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist. “No one can see us.”

“Are you sure?” I get deep enough into the living room to see the top of a massive Christmas tree and the dark beach beyond, moonlight reflecting off the waves.

He tugs at the sheet until my fists unclench and he can pull it away from my naked body. “It’s a gorgeous view,” he whispers, his thumbs brushing back and forth over my bare stomach. I tense, fighting against the urge to push his hands away or suck in. His cock rests between us as he walks me forward, distracting me from my insecurities by the way he’s nuzzled against me.

His hands travel up, cupping my breasts and stealing my breath.

It’s too late for people to be lounging by the pool or gathered around fire pits. There’s no one out there, and even if there is, I’m having a hard time giving a shit when his fingers massage my breasts and his heat warms me from all sides. I try to focus on the gorgeous display of Christmas decorations below, but the slightest reflection in the glass catches my eye, and there I am, in all my nakedness. The sight of me, of us, makes the extravagant holiday decor below pale in comparison and I take a moment to appreciate the reflection. His big, tan hands on my soft, pale breasts. The way his frame curls around mine—

“Your body is fucking incredible,” Dawson murmurs, lips brushing softly against the shell of my ear. “I want to worship at your feet.”

A shudder trembles through me and he grunts as his hands tighten on my breasts, his touch becoming firmer, more kneading than teasing. His cock presses against the crease of my behind and desire tightens my belly.

I lift my gaze and meet Dawson’s in the reflection, breathing deeply as he massages my breasts. I have to raise onto my tiptoes and stretch my arms up in order to hook them around his neck, but he seems to like the view because he grunts his approval and his cock flexes against my bare behind. I close my eyes as he pulls my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, teasing them into stiff peaks.

“Come eat my cookies,” he whispers.

And, I swear on all things holy, Lisa better get the hell out of my head because the response on the end of my tongue is terribly inappropriate for this sensual moment.

“Then I’ll eat yours.”

My eyes fly open and zero in on his reflection as his lips quirk into a grin.Does he know Lisa? They certainly have the same sense of humor.He releases my tits and turns away from me.

I spin slowly and watch him stride into the kitchen, staring brazenly at his thick, firm ass. “You just said that last bit out loud.”

Dawson chuckles. “I sure did. Meant it too.”

Anticipation sends a shiver through me and, with an excited giggle, I follow him into the kitchen, stopping to lean my hips against the counter and look up at him in awe. Where did he come from? I mean, aside from New Orleans. He must be an angel or an alien. Maybe a unicorn.Somethingmystical because he’s too damn good to be true.

Dawson turns toward me with a plate of warm, chocolate chip cookies, then sets them beside me and places his hands on my hips. My flesh jumps at the touch and my pussy throbs with need. Something about his hands on my waist is an unexpected aphrodisiac. The way his fingers dig into my softness as he lifts me up and sets me down on the counter is far sexier than it has any right to be—

I yelp as my bare ass hits the cold surface, but he holds up a cookie and I’m distracted from the cold by his dark gaze.

“Open.”

I do. Anytime he asks, I will.

He brings the treat to my mouth and I take a bite. The moment the sweet, buttery flavor hits my tongue, my eyes roll back and I moan.

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