Mister Fake Fiance

It’s all I can do to not wince. Jesus. It tastes like lemon! The recipe called for a dash of lemon juice…not a vat!

“Is it good?” she asks eagerly.

I don’t know how to answer without hurting her feelings. So I gesture for her to take a bite herself.

Chapter Thirty-One

David

With a smile, Erin digs her fork into the still-hot dessert, levers out a bite-sized piece and blows on it. Then she slips it into her mouth.

I wait for the sourness to hit her. Her face should scrunch any second now…

But no. She closes her eyes. “Mmm. Soooo good.”

Good? Is she kidding? Did they change the definition of the word while I wasn’t looking?

Except nothing in her expression says she’s messing with me. Her eyes are closed, her cheeks are going pink with pleasure and her lips are curved into a line of utter bliss.

Maybe she didn’t mix the sugar well, so it all went on one side of the cobbler—hers—while I got none…

The juices from the dessert glisten on her mouth. I can’t help it: I lean forward, then lick it off to get a taste.

Her eyes fly open. Our gazes connect, her breath tickling my face like a feather. My taste buds vaguely register something just as tart as what I had only moments ago. But my senses say it’s not the same as the first bite. It’s more interesting, more delicious and lovely. The tip of my tongue prickles like an electric current is running through from there, all the way to my dick.

I go rock hard instantly. My heart thuds, undoubtedly trying to put the blood back into my brain, but it doesn’t work.

For three heartbeats, Erin and I stay frozen, our mouths only a hairsbreadth away. I don’t know if she moves or I do, but then our lips are touching, hers soft and pliant under mine. When she parts her mouth, I taste peach…and a sweetness that’s uniquely Erin.

My head is full of nothing but her smell, taste and softness. With a great effort, I refrain from pulling her closer. Instead, I grip the counter and kiss her with nothing but my mouth, giving her a chance to pull back if this isn’t what she wants, even as my body burns.

Her tongue strokes mine shyly. The tentative, inexpert licks are hotter than flames. My blood turns to fire. I let out a soft groan against her mouth.

Her hand is on my shoulder, her delicate fingers digging into the muscle. Yes, yes, yes. Touch me, touch me, touch me.

Her other palm lies against my cheek. The gesture is so tender and sweet. She kisses me a little more deeply and our mouths fuse. My heart is pounding so hard that she has to be able to hear it.

I don’t care if she’s my assistant, or that we’re fake engaged for non-romantic reasons. The only thing that matters is this kiss. The connection.

I don’t ever want this moment to end. Ever.

She moves closer. Her stomach brushes against my dick and a searing jolt rushes up my spine.

A gasp puffs out of her mouth. The hand on my cheek trembles. Then suddenly she takes half a step back and inhales shakily.

“Um.” She looks around like she can’t process what just happened. Her cheeks are crimson, and she wipes her hands on the apron. “Um… I… I don’t know what to say. Should I say something?” she says, almost to herself.

“Erin.” I cradle her jaw in my hand, the touch butterfly soft. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

Her whole face is red now. “I didn’t mean to kiss you like that. Sorry.” Then she licks her mouth.

I clench my teeth to contain a groan. If she’s really sorry, she shouldn’t have licked her mouth like that. Because I want to do the same. Then kiss her all over. Then taste her where she’s the sweetest.

Get your mind out of the gutter, man.

“It takes two to kiss, and I’m not sorry,” I say.

She blinks, her eyes slightly glazed. “You’re not?”