Page 27 of Cupcake
It was him who broke the kiss off abruptly, his chest heaving and his breath heavy on my lips when he rested his forehead on mine. “Tell me you felt that, Haylee. Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this way.”
My head nodded, his bobbing with the motion. “I felt it. I don’t think I liked it, but I felt it.”
Brady’s lips captured mine again for a too fast tumble until I was begging for air to soothe my burning lungs. I put my hand against his chest, and he reluctantly released my lips. “Still don’t like it, cupcake?” he whispered, brushing a long piece of hair behind my ear.
I sagged against the rack and rested my forehead on his chest, so I didn’t have to see his face and want to keep kissing his delectable lips. “We can’t do this, Brady. We’re not a good match. You’re a playboy who isn’t looking to do the same woman twice. I’m nearly thirty and looking to settle down. It won’t work between us.”
His hands grasped my ass and tugged me up flat against his hard, trim six-pack. The action allowed me to feel every inch of his loaf of bread, too, which was hard as steel. That was probably his plan. My hands wanted to know what it would feel like to hold him. Was he silky smooth there, too? Would he twitch in my hand when I ran my finger over his tip? The thought had me biting back a moan of needy desire. I was a hot mess, and I had to get away from him before I did something I shouldn’t.
One hand still on my ass, he used his other hand to brush the hair off my forehead. “Cupcake, I’m nearly thirty-three, and there is only one woman I’m looking to do twice. I happen to be looking at her. I’m not a playboy, and I don’t sleep with most of the women I take out, contrary to popular belief,” he said, one brow raised in the air.
“Haylee?” Amber called from outside the cooler. “Are you okay?”
Brady was across the cooler mindlessly counting cupcakes by the time she yanked the door open two seconds later. “Oh, my gosh, were you guys locked in here?” she asked innocently.
Too innocently.
Damn this woman!
I grabbed what was left of my eggs and breezed past her. “We were, but everything’s fine. Thanks for noticing the light.” I lowered the eggs to the workbench and started cracking them into the bowl like I didn’t just make out to the point of almost coming. Dammit! It had been too long since I’d had sex. That was the reason I was even considering what he said to be the truth. Did he mean I was the woman he wanted to do twice? I mean, he said he was looking at her, so he had to mean me, right?”
Amber brushed past me with a tray of cupcakes for the bakery case, a naughty grin on her face. I acted cool and calm while breaking my eggs into the bowl and waited for her to leave so I could freak out in private. “Did you get cold in the cooler?” she asked, her eyes drifting to my chest where my nipples peaked like Mount Kilimanjaro.
I crossed my arm over my chest, innocently. “It was pretty cold in there.”
“Good thing you had Brady with you. His hotness surely kept you warm.”
She sashayed into the other room with her cupcakes, and I groaned, my arm falling away from my chest. She didn’t, did she? If she locked us in that cooler, I was going to have a word with her in private! What are you going to say? Are you going to thank her for giving you the best fifteen minutes of your life? The sound that left my throat was strangled, and I broke an egg too hard, the shells falling into the bowl with the yolk.
“I don’t think the recipe calls for shells,” Brady whispered from behind me, and I jumped, his nearness causing my dirty thoughts to flare back to life. “Let me help you with that,” he whispered, his lips connecting with the back of my neck while he scooped the shells out with a spatula. “That’s much better.” He buried his nose in the back of my neck and inhaled deeply. “I hate and love how you always smell so good, cupcake. All I want to do is lick you...for starters.”
I cleared my throat, his lips leaving trails of goosebumps down my back, and a shiver ran up my spine at the thought of him licking me. “I call it Eau de Cupcake.”
He ran his thumb across the nape of my neck, and the sound he made could have been bottled and sold for sexual pleasure. “Mmmm, well, I’d eat your cupcake, cupcake.”
He drifted off to his end of the workbench and began punching down loaves of bread, his breath heavy with every punch of the dough. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was frustrated. Then again, if he was feeling the same way I was, frustrated was too mild of a word.
