Page 44 of A Cowboy Sugar Cookie Kiss
I groan and let my head drop downward.
“Good for them. That’s great, but I don’t want to see my grams in the middle of all of that.”
I look at her. “We can’t unsee it.”
“Exactly.” Her hard expression relaxes into a smile. “Baking soothes me. When I’m anxious, sad, or angry, I bake. What do you do?”
“I ride. I climb on Buttermilk, my horse, and we explore my property.”
“That sounds nice.” She gasps. “We are staying on a dude ranch. You could go for a horse ride.”
“I would rather angry bake with you.”
She grabs a new bowl. “We have to improve your angry egg splitting skills.”
I grab an egg from the carton. “What are we baking?”
“Peanut butter banana cookies with broken chocolate bar chunks. You don’t have many ingredients in the fridge.”
“That sounds delicious.”
We slam bowls and pots. Shatter eggs, smash chocolate bars, and throw butter in bowls. Soon our aggression wanes, and we’re pretending to be angry. Laughter erupts with our poor attempts. Shortly, my granddad is a distant thought. Maggie consumes my every thought and my every feeling inside me.
“You got a little something here.” I smear a dollop of batter on her cheek.
“Don’t even start.” She laughs, and wipes off the creamy mix.
I catch her hand and draw her batter-covered finger to my mouth. I see her swallow hard as my tongue runs along her finger. Gentle at first. Just the tip. Peanut butter and banana flavor my taste buds. I lick her finger clean and drag my teeth up her skin. “Delicious. Do you want to try some?”
Her smallyesis a breathless whisper.
I scoop my finger into the cold, sticky blend and hold my arm between us. I can’t tear my eyes away from her hungry gaze. She cradles my wrist. Her luscious lips part. She dips down and her hot tongue strokes my finger. I damn near buckle.
Slow.
Warm.
Fucking hot strokes.
Her tongue swirls and licks up the cookie batter. All the while, her heated gaze burns my soul. When she finishes I capture her lips with mine. My tongue sweeps inside her mouth, lapping hers. Our bodies react, reaching, pressing, touching.
Then the suite door bursts open. Her cheeks are in my hands as our heads tilt. Her sister bursts inside making out with a new guy. Or the guy from last night. I’m actually not sure. They pay no attention to us. Too busy groping and kissing and touching and grinding.
“Which one is our room?” Sadie asks, when the guy’s mouth is busy devouring her neck.
“This one?” She points to a room they stumble toward.
“Nope, that’s my room,” I say.
“Thanks.” Sadie yanks the guy’s shirt into the room she’s sharing with Maggie. The door slams behind them. A crash against the door makes me jump.
Sadie moans.
Maggie groans.
“Want to go for that ride now?” I ask her.
“Yes, yes I do.”
