Page 41 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
If Iris was going to look at him like that and touch him like that…
What was he going to do?
He hadn’t smoked since moving here, but suddenly he wished he hadn’t given it up.
‘What kind are you trying tonight?’
Archer blinked. Pancakes. She was talking about pancakes while he was thinking about taking her to bed.
‘Buttermilk.’
‘Yum.’ She wiped her finger around the edge of the bowl where the batter had dribbled over and lifted it to her mouth. Archer grabbed her wrist.
‘Hey!’
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, leaning closer. What washedoing? Why was he touching her? Why was he leaning across the counter toward her? Why was his entire focus fixed on her luscious mouth? He’d clearly lost his mind, but she was reeling him in with those damn eyes and that mischievous smile. It was back and he wanted it to stay. He didn’t like that he’d upset her, that he’d slipped into his cocky-bastard tendencies. He found that he didn’t want to be that guy anymore. At least not around Iris.
‘Licking the batter.’ The wordlickingsent fire through his veins and a million inappropriate thoughts through his head.
‘You shouldn’t eat raw batter.’ He was still holding her wrist and her pulse fluttered beneath his fingers. Her tongue swiped along her bottom lip and Archer nearly groaned.
‘I was just going to have a little.’ The batter was dripping down her finger.
‘I should probably taste it first. Make sure it’s good.’ His voice was low and rough, and they were far too close and her pulse had sped up and this was a bad idea and … his mind blanked as he took Iris’s finger in his mouth and licked it clean. He ran his tongue over the length of it, that finger that had just teased along his skin, nipping the tip before he released it with a quietpop.
Her eyes widened but she didn’t pull away. Instead, a small whimper escaped her lips. Oh God, he wanted to pull her onto the counter and lick the rest of her. The thought slammed into him. It was a visceral need, a demand from every inch of his body.
Never mind that his mind was screaming at him to stop! To turn back and find the line he wasn’t supposed to cross!
He couldn’t hear that voice anymore.
All he could hear was Iris’s breath, mingling with his own, like they’d both run to get here. He tugged her closer, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, the taste of pancake batter still on his tongue.
Her gaze flicked down to his mouth and lingered there. She licked her own lips like she was thinking about what she wanted to do to his.
‘Archer.’ His name sounded like a plea.
‘Tell me to stop,’ he nearly begged. If she told him to stop, he would. He would step away and they could pretend he’d never done that, he’d never tasted her skin. ‘Tell me to stop, Iris and go back to your room.’
Another little whimper.
He was close enough now to run his nose along the soft skin of her cheek. He was going to kiss her. He was going to kiss his nanny and ruin absolutely everything, but he couldn’t stop himself, he couldn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.
Until he heard the distant ringing of … Christmas bells?
‘What…’ Iris’s voice sounded far away and dreamy. She’d turned from him and he wanted her back, but she was tugging her wrist away and hopping down from her stool and moving toward the door.
The front door where Olive once again was trying to get out in her sleep, the Christmas bells on the door ringing with every attempt.
Christ.
He let the air rush out of his lungs, let the kitchen and living room rush back into his consciousness, let his body shake off the feel of Iris in his hand.
He’d almost kissed her.
He’d almost ruined everything.
‘Come on, kid,’ Iris whispered, ushering Olive past him and back down the hall. ‘Time for bed.’
