Chapter 5 #3
“Not if you’re going to be a cocktease and a brat.”
“Fuck you, Gable.”
“Not on the agenda anymore, remember?” He sat back in his chair with a smirk on his face. Damn, I wanted to wipe that grin off his lips.
My attention dropped to his nice suit and tie. It was my turn to smirk. “What a pristine suit you have there, Mr. Gable. It would be a shame if you got something on it.” I grabbed a forkful of chocolate ganache cake.
Hudson’s eyes widened as he glanced down at his immaculate appearance. “Don’t you fucking—”
Before rational thought could intervene, I flicked the fork, sending a perfect arc of chocolate straight onto his white shirt.
Time seemed to stop as we both stared at the brown smear on his collar. His expression morphed from shock to disbelief to something that made my stomach drop. Not anger, but a dangerous sort of determination.
“Bitch,” he said, his voice deadly quiet.
“Dick,” I said, not sounding sorry at all. “My fork slipped.”
Hudson chuckled darkly and picked up his own fork. He loaded it with lemon curd filling and met my eyes. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine, but it didn’t stop what I would’ve guessed was a psychotic grin from spreading across my face.
“This shirt was expensive.”
“Should have worn a bib.”
He launched the lemon curd, hitting me square in the chest, just above the neckline of my blouse. The cold, tart filling slid down between my breasts, making me gasp. His gaze tracked its descent.
“Oops,” he echoed.
I glanced down at the yellow trail disappearing beneath my blouse, then back up at him. He trained his gaze on the spot where the lemon curd had disappeared, his pupils dilated. Something hot and liquid pooled in my belly at his expression.
“You’re dead, Gable,” I whispered, reaching for the nearest cake sample; a chocolate mousse with hazelnut cream.
I scooped up a generous portion with my fingers, abandoning any pretense of utensils. Hudson’s eyes widened as he realized my intent, and he pushed his chair back, but not quickly enough. I lunged forward, smearing the chocolate across his chest, deliberately ruining the crisp white shirt farther.
“You’re an infuriating dick,” I informed him as he looked down at the damage, chocolate dripping onto his pants.
“Unbelievable,” he said, his voice low. Hudson moved with a speed I hadn’t expected, grabbing my wrist before I could retreat. With his other hand, he reached for the raspberry filling. “Hold still.”
“Don’t you dare—”
Too late. The cold, sticky jam slid down my neck, disappearing beneath my collar. The sensation sent goosebumps racing across my skin.
“Red’s an excellent color on you,” Hudson observed, his voice rough. He was still holding my wrist, his thumb pressed against my racing pulse. “Brings out the fire in your eyes.”
I twisted out of his grasp, but only to reach for the vanilla buttercream. “Let’s see how it looks on you.”
I smeared it across his jaw before he caught both my wrists this time, holding them firmly in one of his large hands. His other hand dipped into the zabaglione with blackberry compote.
“You keep pushing buttons, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low rumble that I felt in my chest, “be prepared to find out what they do”
The sweet, cool custard slid down my chest as he traced a line from my collarbone to the first button of my blouse. I couldn’t stop the small sound that escaped my throat; not quite a gasp, not quite a moan.
“That’s cheating,” I protested, my voice embarrassingly breathless. “My hands are trapped.”
“In other words, you didn’t think this through,” he murmured, his face inches from mine as he leaned across the table.
I glanced down at the tiramisu within reach of my mouth. Hudson followed my gaze.
“Don’t even think about—”
I leaned forward and took a mouthful of the coffee-soaked cake, and before he could stop me, pressed my lips to his jaw, just below his ear. The cake smeared across his skin as I pulled back, leaving a trail of mascarpone and espresso-soaked crumbs.
“You are insane,” he growled, releasing my wrists to grab a handful of my hair instead. The slight tug sent a shock of pleasure down my spine.
“All’s fair in love and cake wars,” I said, breathless.
His eyes darkened to forest green. “Is that what this is?”
“War? Yes. Yes, it is.”
“Then enough playing. You’ve made your point.”
“Have I? What point is that?”
“That you can make me react.” His gaze bored into mine. “Congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”
There was frosting in his hair, chocolate on his shirt, and tiramisu on his jaw. His perfect appearance was destroyed, and somehow, he’d never looked more attractive.
“You still look too composed,” I decided, reaching for the whipped cream.
This time, he didn’t try to stop me. Instead, he watched as I scooped up a dollop of cream. Slowly, deliberately, I reached forward and smeared it along his bottom lip.
Hudson remained perfectly still, his eyes never leaving mine, as the cream clung to his mouth. A single drop slid down his chin.
Without thinking, I leaned forward and licked it off.
The taste of sweet cream and Hudson’s skin sent a jolt through me. I pulled back, suddenly aware of what I’d done, but before I could retreat further, his hand tangled in my hair, holding me in place.
“If you’re going to light the fuse, you don’t get to walk away from the blast.”
His mouth descended on mine, and any pretense of restraint shattered. He tasted of sugar and coffee. The kiss was hungry. Demanding. I melted against him, my hands sliding into his hair, smearing more frosting but not caring in the slightest.
“Get over here,” he growled against my lips.
I took the shortcut, climbing over the table and kneeling so that we were eye to eye where he stood.
“Better?”
He groaned against my lips; the vibration sending shivers down my spine. His free hand found my waist, pulling me off the table. He sat down, positioning me on his lap.
“What the fuck are we doing?” I gasped as his mouth moved to my neck, licking away the trail of raspberry jam. The sensation of his hot tongue against my skin made me shiver.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” His hands were already working on the buttons of my ruined blouse.
“Lillianna and the bakery staff—”
“Will knock,” he murmured, pushing the fabric aside to reveal my lace-covered breasts, now decorated with streaks of lemon and chocolate. “God, sweetheart.”
He looked at me like I was the most decadent dessert at the table, and the heat in his gaze made me feel more exposed than my partial nudity.
“Fine, but this is just physical,” I insisted, even as I arched into his touch. “One last time. To get it out of our systems.”
“Whatever you say,” he said, clearly not believing me. His tongue traced the path of lemon curd between my breasts. “Just physical.”
“Nothing more,” I managed to say as he pushed the cup of my bra aside, revealing a nipple smeared with chocolate. The contrast of the cold air and his gaze made it tighten instantly. “Oh god.”
“Just a cleansing service,” he said with mock solemnity, before taking my nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling to remove every trace of chocolate. The heat of his mouth was scalding compared to the cool frosting. I dug my nails into his shoulders.
“Damn it, Gable,” I moaned, unable to stop myself from grinding against him. Shit, he was hard, and the friction against my core was exquisite torture.
He pulled back, his eyes almost black with desire. “Do that again, and I’ll bend you over this table right now.”
The command in his voice made me clench. “Threat or a promise?”
His hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat. “Landry,” he growled, his voice a warning. “Don’t test me.”
A knock at the door froze us both.
“Ms. Landry? Mr. Gable?” Lillianna’s voice called from the other side. “Is everything all right in there?”
Hudson and I stared at each other, both breathing hard, covered in cake and frosting, my blouse half-unbuttoned and his hands still on my breasts.
“Fine!” I called back, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched. “Just... finalizing our selections!”
“I’ll be back in five minutes. Take your time.”
Hudson’s forehead dropped to my shoulder, and I felt rather than heard his laugh. “Finalizing our selections?”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, can’t talk right now, I’m getting frosting licked off my tits by my dickhead rival’?”
He laughed again; the sound vibrating against my skin. “Fair enough.”
Reluctantly, we disentangled ourselves. I slid off, grimacing at the mess we’d made. Cake was everywhere—on the table, on our clothes, in our hair. There was even a streak of buttercream on the ceiling, though I had no idea how it had gotten there.
“How the fuck are we going to explain this?” I asked as I dabbed at a spot of chocolate on my collar and re-buttoned my blouse.
“Tablecloth slid off the table?”
“That could work. Maybe. Doubt it.”
“We’ll clean it up as much as possible.”
“Obviously.”
Hudson reached out, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Missed a spot,” he muttered, showing me the smudge of frosting on his thumb.
Our gazes met, and for a moment, I wanted to lean into his touch, to close the distance between us again.
“Landry,” he began, his voice hesitant.
“Don’t,” I cut him off, stepping back. “This was just physical, remember? One last time to get it out of our systems.”
He studied me for a long moment, his expression guarded. “And did it work? Is it out of your system?”
No. Nope. Not even close. But I couldn’t admit that.
“Completely,” I lied. “Now we can focus on the competition without... distractions.”
Something flickered in his eyes, and the mask slid into place again. “Absolutely. No distractions.”
We cleaned up the room as best as we could in silence. Lillianna was waiting for us when we walked out.
“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to worry.” Her eyes widened as she took in our disheveled appearances. “What happened?”