Page 24 of Shortcake
His eyes landed on the pink, light-upShortcakesign hanging above the bar. “Shortcake,” he repeated. His eyes swept slowly down my 5’1” frame, caressing me without a single touch.
A shudder rolled down my spine. I’d seen that predatory look before.
He slowly, carefully, unbuttoned the top of my costume. Rough calloused fingers scraped the silky skin of my cleavage as his eyes swept down my body. He groaned, a tortured, appreciative sound before cupping my breasts and dropping his mouth to feast on my nipple.
“I take it that’s what they call you?” he asked.
“Hm?”
“Shortcake. Is that a nickname?”
“Sure. If you want to lose an appendage.”
The corner of his mouth tipped into what some might call a semblance of a smile for the second time in a one-minute stretch. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who smiled a whole lot… evident by the fact that this little smirk was the closest thing I’d seen to a smile ever. Three years ago or three minutes ago. “Threatening a cop might not be the best idea.”
“Calling me Shortcake might be an evenworseidea.”
There was a pause, heady and intense as we stared at each other. Tingles spiraled down my spine as his molten blue eyes seared into mine. Holy shit… was this… were weflirting? It’d been a minute since I’d flirted withanyone. And I’d never flirted with a cop.
Or rather, I’d neverknowinglyflirted with a cop.
Maybe I was just imagining this chemistry between us? It’d been a long night. And I hadn’t had sex in … God. I didn’t even want to think about how long it’d been since the last time I’d been with someone. Months probably. I’d been too damn busy getting the bar ready.
“Addy it is, then. It’s nice to finally meet you. Therealyou.” I stared at his outstretched hand, waiting for mine.
Touching him felt like a terrible idea. And yet, I craved to feel those hands again, even if it was only in a handshake.
His stare twisted into me. Wanting. Needing. I could almost feel his desire, as palpable as mine, radiating off of him.
As badly as I wanted to jump over this bar and straddle him right then and there on the bar stools I’d bought just a couple weeks ago, instead I took a deep calming breath and cleared my throat. “And what about Harper’s mom? Do you thinkshe’llbe excited to meet me?”
His brow arched, but other than that, he didn’t move an inch. “Considering she lives in London and has never been a big part of either of our lives,excitedisn’t the word I’d use.”
Huh. I’d never known anyone where their mother had been the one to leave. In my experience, it was always the dad. The dad never cared to stick around. The dad went off and had mistresses and affairs and second families.
I wiped my palm against my jeans, then slid my palm against his. “Conrad Meyer. It’s nice to meet you… finally.”
With a gentle squeeze, his fingers curved around mine. Christ, he was so large, it was like a cartoon how it engulfed my fingers. Electricity zipped up my arm, trailing a path of gooseflesh from where he touched me and the molecules in the air between us danced to life.
Nope. I was definitelynotimagining this.
Whatever this heat, this chemistry between us was? It was real. And so thick, I could practically swim through it to get to him.
He slid his hand out of mine, and a chill swept over me in the absence of his touch.
I turned around, trying to gather myself, busy myself with any little task so he wouldn’t see me so damn flustered. I turned off the crockpot, keeping what was left of my shortcake warm and yanked the plug out from the socket to turn it off.
“You wanna know why they call me Shortcake?” I said, trying to cool my heated cheeks. “It’s because I make the best freaking shortcake in all of New England.” I grabbed a Tupperware container and spooned what was left of my shortcake into it, then slid it over to him with a spoon. “Here. Try this.”
“Best shortcake in all of New England?” he repeated, lifting the spoon. “Strong words.”
“Truthful words.”
“Let’s see about that.” He dipped the spoon into the still warm shortcake. Swear to God, it was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen as he took the first slow bite and groaned his approval in a low, masculine growl.
Through parted lips, I caught a glance at the sliver of his tongue as it worked the last bit of strawberry off the spoon and snippets of our one night together flashed through my memory at the sight.
That same tongue had laved down my body, licking a path from my abs to my throbbing, aching core.
